


Calling It: Good Intentions

by deityparody



Series: Calling It [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Batfamily Feels, Canon-Typical Violence, Don’t copy to another site, It's my world and I'm gonna do what I want, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Swearing, Tim Drake-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2019-11-17 20:59:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 42,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18106355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deityparody/pseuds/deityparody
Summary: Timothy Jackson Drake has been Red Robin for nearly three years now.  Ever since he was summarily kicked out of the Batfam (no matter what anyone in the Batfamily said), he’s been taking care of himself.  He has his own back and doesn’t need anybody else's help, no matter what the Titans may say (and they have a lot to say on the issue).  Tim doesn’t need a safety net when he flies.





	1. Calling It: The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Fracture](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5156417) by [wintersnight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintersnight/pseuds/wintersnight). 



> Hi everyone and welcome!
> 
> I’ve been working on this piece for a loooonnnnng time now and I’m finally ready to start posting it. It’s going to be a long piece (I’ve written about 100 pages of it as of now) with a few (or many depending on if people ask for them/like them or not) one-shots spin-offs that will help enrich the world I’m *trying* to build. 
> 
> With that, I feel that I should warn people that, while I am a Batman fan, I’m really, really behind in the comics. Like I think Dick is now going by Ric at the moment? Maybe? IDK, that seems odd to me. Darn real life getting in the way of me reading comics.
> 
> What does this mean for you, my lovely readers?
> 
> Well, I’ll tell you: it means we’re in massive cannon divergence area folks. I’ll be using what I like from different reboots as well as making some of it up myself because, really, why not? That’s why I’ve written one-shots to help with the whole wobbly-wobbly, timy-wimy stuff. 
> 
> Also, if you’ve read my other stuff, I feel you should be warned: this is going to be angsty. More angsty than my other stuff. I’ll still be putting in some humor but still…angst.
> 
> This was inspired by wintersnight beautiful piece, Fractured, which everyone should read because, frankly, it’s incredible. I would also like to thank them for all of the help they gave me when I was starting to write this piece. Seriously, they're a wonderful person who deserves all the lovely thing in their life.

Serene and Gotham do not go together.It was almost peaceful so long as you ignore the racket of car alarms and traffic.It was excellent for Gotham.Anytime there was peace (and Gotham was not on the verge of an alien invasion) was a blessing.

Something to _celebrate_.

A reason to be _happy_.

Drumming his thumbs on the concrete roof under him, Red Robin waits in the chill.There was always, _always_ something to do in Gotham.Punching Two-Face in the face?Great.Foiling the latest Joker scheme?Fantastic.Catching Ivy before she releases the latest version of her plant toxin?All in a days work.Hell, usually there were muggers throughout Crime Alley that Red could punch.

Quiet nights, like tonight, grants a sense of false hope.Like Gotham could do this every day.That maybe Gotham could be like any other city. 

It couldn’t be.

Red Robin knew that. 

The worst part wasn't the boredom (which, don't get him wrong, was fucking awful.Shit, he'd almost welcome a Ra's attack, but that wasn't due until later this week), no it was the stealthy asshat sneaking his way over to Red because, _clearly_ , Tim couldn't see him coming.

“Hood.” Red's thumbs accelerate their drumming.

“Damn, Red, and here I was tryin' ta be sneaky.” Red Hood sinks onto the roof next to Red Robin.Red could see Hood surveying him. 

"Next time, leave the steel-toed boots at home then." 

Jason snorts."Ya need a hair cut."

Red ignores Jason.“You know it’s immensely stupid to sneak up on somebody in Gotham, right?”

“Whada ya going do? Shoot me?I'd love to see you try, Babybird.”

Red scoffs as his thumbs continue to play their beat, “oh yeah, **I’m** the one with a history of shooting people.”

“One time.”

“Three times.”

Red ignores Jason's flinch, too busy shoving his own unwelcome memories back into their black box.One of many.Hood slitting Red's (then Robin's) throat.The hot, dry Arabian desert.The cock of a pistol.Death.Gotham rooftops.Blood.Unknown basements.Pain. 

Jason bumps Red, nudging Tim out of his thoughts, Hood forces a chuckle, “eh, the first time was barely a graze.”

For the first time, Tim's thumbs froze as his head swivels around to look at Hood.Tim gave Hood one of his best _Red Robin_ glares which only appears to amuse Hood.

“How in the Hell do you figure?”

Red could tell that Hood was grinning at him under his hood, “yer still breathing.”

Tim shakes his head, suppressing a smile.It had been over a year since Red Hood had last tried to kill him.Well, _really_ tried to kill him.Without the Pit pulling strings. 

Enough time passed so Tim 'replacing' Jason wasn't a raw wound anymore.It didn't hurt that Red had also been replaced at this point too.Shoved out of the way to make room for the family.Like Jason.Like Damian.  Like Dick. _The real sons_. 

Mostly though, Tim thought Jason finds it more useful to keep Red breathing instead of trying to stab him with a Batarang.

Again.

It's moderately difficult for a person with a slit throat to track the drugs trade in Gotham.

Shaking his head, Red resumes drumming his thumbs. “You have a terrible sense of humor.”

“Are you kidding me? It’s to die for,” Hood snickers more to himself than Red.

Red closes his eyes briefly, resisting the urge to sigh ( _because, damn it Hood, that shouldn’t be funny, but it was, so_ ** _fuck you_** ) before asking, “how’s Roy?”

Tim internal wince when he hears Jason swoon. 

_He’s fucking swooning._

_Like a goddamn Disney Princess._

Oh Gods, when did this **** _become Red’s life._

“He’s fukin’ fantastic.No, really Replacement,” Hood continues loudly over Red’s groans, “he does dis thing, with his **tongue** , dat makes me c—”

“SO, WHAT CAN I DO FOR YOU?”Red’s voice came out harsher than he intends in order to cover Jason’s gushing.

Red’s rules for dealing with the Bats:

1\. Find out what the Bats want.

2.Give it to them.

3.Get the Hell out of Dodge.

The less time Red (Tim) had to spend with the Bats, the better.It wasn’t like he was a welcome part of the Batfamily anymore. 

Hell, the only Bat member Red ever communicated with (outside of the job) was Jason.Even then only on the rare occasion Tim was in Gotham.Red put up with it because if Tim starts avoiding Jason, Hood would go out of his way to find and talk to Red.Or Tim.Either would work. 

The Titans were **not** enthusiastic about having the formerly dead Robin on their doorstep, asking after Red and what kind of beer they had.( _"PVR?Shit, Replacement, I thought you had_ ** _class_** _."_ )

Besides, it was better this way.Everyone was happier in their designated roles.It's easier than trying to fit a square peg into a round hole.  Tim is done trying to shove that peg in anymore. 

And Red's perfectly fine with it.

“B wants ya ta come ta the Manner for dinner,” Red controls a flinch that Hood graciously ignores.“Alfred making pizza.”

“Can’t.I have to run a trace on a weapons shipment,” Red lies. 

It's a white lie, really.The trace on the weapons cargo (a trail Red had been working for fucking weeks now) had long since run cold.Since there were not any criminals out and about, Red should call it a night. 

Oblivious as ever, Hood suggests, "do it on da Batcomputer.”

Red stifles a groan. Yes, it made a lot of sense to do it on the Batcomputer. Red hates (and he really, **really** hates to) to admit it, but the Batcomputer is faster than any setup that he has in Gotham. Plus, it is already hooked into Gotham PD meaning Red wouldn't waste hacking in.

For some reason, the GPD was forever upgrading their systems. It woulda been annoying except for the sense of pride Red got every time he wormed his way back into the database.

Logically, Red should do it on the Batcomputer. 

But, returning to the Batcave?Ugh. 

For the sake of argument, Red entered the idea of going to the Batcave.

The facts:

1.Batman would be there; that would be…unavoidable. 

2.Robin would defiantly be there along with his newest pet.Through the grapevine, Red heard that somehow Robin had convinced both Batman _and_ Agent A that he should be allowed to keep a cow in the Batcave. _A cow_.And to think, Bats and Agent A nearly had an aneurysm when Red _had_ bring a guinea pig back to the Manner for a science project.It had been in a cage for Heaven sakes, but it had still been a fight to get it through the front door. 

Red briefly considered if Robin was keeping the cow ( _dubbed Batcow for some unholy reason_ ) was being kept in his old workspace before banishing the thought.It wasn’t any of Red’s concern what was happening in the Batcave anymore.

3.Oh fucking hell, Nightwing would be there too, come to think about it.N had moved back to Gotham after the Battle of the Cowl and the ensuing chaos that followed.As far as Red knew, N hadn't gone back to Blüdhaven nor would he after 'Haven had fallen.Nightwing would be inescapable, that is, if N even noticed Red was there.Red started drumming his thumbs again, Gods, he was beginning to sound like an angsty tween.He was twenty, not twelve for fuck sakes.

As much as his stomach yearns for Alfred's pizza, Red didn't want to go through the tedious process of expulsion from the Manor.

_Not my place anymore Hood, remember?_

"No, I already have all the info synced on my systems.Next time.” The tone that came out of Red's mouth was nothing like his usual tone.It was smooth.Unemotional.Insincere.

If Hood noticed the change in Red's tones, he didn't comment.

***

“Where were you?” Dick flips off of the high training bar, landing lightly onto the mat near Jason. Jason fought a grimace at Dick’s smirk. He had never been able to achieve Dick’s level of grace, and dat fuckin' acrobatic knew it. And Jason would be damn ( _again_ ) if that fuckin' asshole didn’t rub it in ta Jason’s face every fuckin' chance he got. Dick strolled pass the Demon who happened to be busy practicing with his katana (and who da fuck's bright idea was it ta give that back ta the kid?Jason, really, **really** didn't want ta have ta get stitches _again_ ) ta invade Jason's bubble.

“Talkin’ ta Tim,” Jason slams his helmet down onto his workbench before starting ta clean his guns.

Each of the members of the Batfamily had their own work area in the cave.Jason’s area near da garage which made it great fer a quick escape.Goldie's has his workbench next ta da mats.Demon Brat's was between Bruce's (next ta da Batcomputer) and Dick's. 

The only bench dat had never been touched was fer da Replacement.It stood, damn near _gleaming_ next ta the back of the Batcomputer where the person who was supposed ta be workin' there would have easy access ta da Batcomputer if they (Tim) needs ta repairs it.

Goldie hardly took any notice of what Jason was sayin' ‘cause he was distracted by da Brat.In fairness, it did look like the Demon Brat was tryin' ta hack the practice dummy ta death. 

“Oh, that’s nice. Is he coming to dinner?”

“Busy,” Jason grunts.

“Huh, he’s been busy a lot recently,” Dick replies, still starin' at da Demon.“Damian, what on Earth are you doing with that katana?I only gave it back to you because you promised _not_ to hurt anything with it.”

Jason misses da Brat’s response as Dick went over to correct (bicker with) Damian about the katana.

 _Sometimes_ , Jason thought, _Dick was a fuckin’ idiot_.

Replacement—Damn it, Tim, _not_ Replacement (Jason was working on that)— hadn’t been near the Manner for over a year.He hadn’t been near the Batcave in almost half that time. 

Yet, neither Bruce nor fuckin’ Goldie seems ta have a goddamn clue about the fucking kid.Sure, they knew what fuckin' CEO: _Tim Wayne_ was doin’.But fuckin' really though, what tabloid didn’t? 

Tim though?Ickly Babybird though? Dork wonder? They didn’t have a fuckin’ clue.What's worse, neither of them seem ta have a clue dat they didn't have a clue.World Greatest Detective?Shit, they couldn’t see what was goin’ on two inches from their fuckin’ face.

Jason glares down at his workbench.Shit, when had the Replacement—shit _Tim_ — wellbeing become fuckin’ Jason’s problem?

About a year ago, Re— **Tim** had gotten Jason’s nuts out of the fire.Not that Jason wouldn’t have figured a way out.He had been pinned down by drug dealers before.Sure, Jason mighta gone in a little hot (and without enough bullets and he mighta been ridin' da pit a bit, but who needed to know that?).He didn’t like drug dealers who would push their crap onto kids.It rubbed 'em the wrong way. 

But Tim (fuck yeah, he got his name right)—icky Timmy-wimmy—swung in like it was noth’ and kicked some major ass.He managed to knock all the fuckin’ dealer and tied ‘em up before Jason could say shit.

Then Tim did something that Jason never expected. 

He fuckin’ dragged Jason’s sorry ass back ta one of Jason’s safe houses (which Jason _still_ doesn't know **how** Tim knew about dat one.It wasn't one on any of B's radar) and patched him up before leaving.

 _“Da fuck you do that for?” Jason slurred_. 

Blood loss was always a bitch.

 _Tim shrugged.It mighta been da blood loss, but Replacement-_ Tim's eyes _seemed empty.“Couldn’t leave you there to die, could I?”_

Tim left before Jason could respond. 

It wasn’t long after dat Jason gave in to Bruce and Dick and started hanging ‘round the bats again. 

Jason had expected to see Tim around the cave.After a month of not seeing Tim, he finally cracked and asked the Demon about it. 

_“Where’s Replacement?”_

_Dami looked around at him.“Tt.If you’re talking about_ **_Drake_** _,” he sneered the name which made Jason’s eyes roll, “he doesn’t live here anymore.”_

_"Isn't the kid only like, eighteen?"_

_Damian stared blankly at Jason."And your point, Todd?"_

Dat was da last time Jason had asked any Tim question ta any of da Bats.He did, from time to time, still yanked on Timmy’s chain, ta make sure the kid was still kickin’.

Alfred's voice pulls 'em from his thoughts as the butler calls them up fer dinner. 

* * *

Tim took a deep breath in as he parked his Ducati before entering his Perch. 

It had been a long week.If Tim saw one more proposal to sell WE tech to Lexcorp, he was going to scream.Some of the ideas people were having….Tim had begun to worry about the intelligence level of those who worked for him.

Tim heavily sigh before sliding off his cowl and tunic.He glances down at the rainbow of bruises that were blooming over his torso.No need for (new) stitches tonight.Yay.

Maybe Tam would let him have an easy day tomorrow...?Tim snorts at that idea as he pokes a particular large bruise that's three different shades of purple.He was the CEO of a major company who, on average, spent less than a week a month in the office.So when Tam got him in the office…well, there was lots of paperwork.Tam likes to claim that if he was here more that there’d be _less_ paperwork.Tim disagrees with this.If Tim were in the office more, he would have _more_ paperwork.

Tim finally gets his costume off and pulls on his sweats.Sweats were, in Tim's opinion, one of the best things ever invented.They allow him to feel a bit more like **Tim** rather than _Mr. Wayne_ or _Red Robin_. 

Tim hums to himself as he left his perch to go up to his apartment.

Unlike his perch (where everything was in prestige condition) Tim's apartment is a disaster.While in Gotham, he was also almost always too busy to clean.After the fourth (or was the fifth?) time Tam had entered his apartment to find it in shambles, she suggested (ordered) Tim get a cleaning service.She even offered to do it herself.Tim had declined the offer because of, well, _Bat_. 

That's how Tim found himself ( _at three o’clock in the fucking morning_ ) washing his coffee mug before setting up his coffee maker for the morning.

As Tim washed the cup, he debated with himself about whether he needs to sleep tonight when he heard his phone buzz.He glances down to see Conner had sent him a text.

_GO TO BED._

Tim grinning types back:

 _How do you know that I wasn’t snug as a bug in bed and asleep until my phone went off?_

Tim sent the message off.Less than ten seconds later (which, _crap_ , that means Con means **business** ), his phone buzzed again. 

_Because I know you.Go the fuck to bed or you're grounded all weekend._

Tim snorts at that.It isn’t like the metas in the Titans would (could) ground him.He had escape plans for every one of grounding.Although, Raven had threatened she’d poof in his room and take all his Red Robin uniforms.He didn’t want to test that.So Tim texts back: 

_Fine.Going to bed._

Tim barely gets the coffee grounds out before his phone buzzed again.

_NOW or I’m flying over there._

Tim rolls his eyes at his best friend before sending back:

 _My God, I need to get your cameras out of here.I’m making coffee for the A.M. then straight to bed.Night, worrywart._

As Tim put the finishing touches on the coffee, his phone went off again. 

_Night, reason why I have an ulcer.Oh, and don’t forget to take your vitamins!_

* * *

The next morning at WE was not as bad as he was expecting. 

It was so, _so,_ ** _so_** much worse. 

As soon as he got in, Tam grabbed him to tell him that an investor was waiting in Tim’s office.The investor wanted to discuss why his product wasn’t in production yet. 

Tim's ears were still ringing as, an hour later, he heads to a board meeting.Trying to get the board to make a decision was like trying to get Bart to slow down.Frustrating and ultimately useless. 

By the end of the meeting, Tim wasn’t sure what the meeting had been about or if a decision had even been made.This all happened before lunch.

“You want the usual, Tim?” Tam asks, as Tim was about to reenter his office.

“That sounds fanatics, Tam, thanks.” He gives her a grateful half-smile. 

Tam hums back.“Oh and Tim, Mr. Wayne requested a meeting with you.Again.”

Tim suppresses a sigh.“What’d you say?”

“That you were going back out of town tonight and I wasn’t sure when you’d be back.Which isn't a lie because I don’t know when you’re going to be back."

Tim rubs his temples ignoring Tam’s glare.A migraine had been threatening to form for the last hour and a guilt trip from Tam was the last thing that Tim needs.

“I promise Tam, when I know, you’ll know.”

She huffs.“Fine then.I’ll get your lunch for you.”

Tim smiles at her.“Thanks, Tam.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t thank me yet.Once Mr. Wayne found out that you were going out of town again he—” but the rest of her sentence was cut off by Bruce.

Bruce coming out of Tim’s office.

Great.

Tim felt his best CEO mask slip into place.He hadn’t seen Bruce since…well, Tim wasn’t sure when the last time that he’d seen Bruce.Let alone been close enough to talk to him.

“There you are, Tim!” Brucie came out in full force this morning. 

Great, this is exactly what Tim’s head needs this morning.

“He decided to stop by for a bit.See you in a few, Tim.” Tam shoots him an apologetic look before leaving. 

Tam may not know all of what went down between Tim and the Bats, but she did know that it was best to keep them separate if possible or, if not, to get out of the way.

“Bruce.I wasn’t expecting to see you today.How’s Selina?” Tim keeps his voice detached as he processes these new turn of events.

What he wouldn't give for a cup of coffee...

Tim strolls into his office with Brucie following him, the door squeaking shut behind them.

“She’s great! So, son,” Tim suppresses a flinch ( _not your kid, remember? Just the placeholder between kids.We’re all clear on that, right?Right.)._ “I didn’t even know that you were in town.I thought you were still in San Francisco.”

“I’m headed there tonight,” Tim begrudgingly informs Bruce.Though neither his expression nor tone changes from the CEO mask.“So, what can I do for you?”

Bruce extracted some files from his jacket (Where did those folders come from? Red did not like not knowing that.) before thrusting them at Tim.

“Can you run the data for me on this case?”

“Not a problem.” Tim flips open the top file.

“Alfred wants you to come for dinner.”

It was a statement.  Not a question.  

“Can’t, sorry.I’m going to the Tower right after work.Maybe next time.”Tim replies automatically without looking up. 

Brucie, however, didn’t seem to notice the tone.He was already on his cellphone, checking _something_. 

“Right then.Next time.”Bruce left before Tim gets a chance to respond.Tim drops the files next to his desk before walking around it and sinking down into his chair.He lightly raps his head against the desk for a minute. 

_Stupid, stupid, stupid_.Tim thinks to himself.He tries to make it a point to not tell the any of Bats of his comings or goings.Really, though, it wasn’t like any of them cared. 

A voice in the back of his head (that sounded suspiciously like Con) whispers that it must be the sleep deprivation, which didn’t make any sense.Tim had gotten almost two whole hours of sleep this morning.And that's like ten normal people hours of sleep. 

It really isn’t Tim’s fault that the police reports that he had been waiting weeks for had finally been put on to the Gotham server last night.Of course, he had to read them last night just to make sure they were the right ones.He wasn’t going to send the Titans, _his team_ , off on a wild goose chase.So, he had read the report and made his own before going to bed last—this morning.

Tim's pulled from these thoughts by a knock on the door.Tam was standing there, holding a carb salad with raises eyebrows.

“Here is the thing you claim is lunch.”Tam crosses the room and places the box onto Tim’s desk. 

Tim sniffs, shuffling Bruce’s papers away.“There is nothing wrong with eating a salad for lunch.”

“It’s not the salad itself I object to.It's the fact that it's your **only** eating a salad for lunch that weird."

“Who doesn’t like salad?”

“Most sane people.” 

Tim snorts.“You realize calling your boss insane isn’t a good idea?”

“Tim, if you fired me, then you’d have to do all the paperwork,” Tam smirks at Tim’s horrified expression.“Yeah, I think my job is safe.What did Mr. Wayne want?”She nonchalantly asks.

Tim stiffens at the question.“He just wanted some data.”Tim flips the lid off the salad to see a full family-sized salad sitting in front of him.“I think you may have gotten too much.”

“No, I didn't.You'll need the energy.The Lexcorp officials are coming after lunch for an impromptu meeting.Don't worry,” Tam continues at Tim's groan, "I've already told Steve down at Security to run interference."Tam turns to leave.“And I expect all of that salad to be gone by the time I get back mister,” she adds in her best mock motherly voice.

“Yes, Ma’am.”And Tim took an exaggeratedly large bit at Tam’s glare.

***

The rest of the day at WE went by relatively smoothly.Tim's even able to get out at a reasonable hour.

Miraculous, Tim had been able to finish the whole salad.Or, maybe it wasn’t a miracle; just Tim failing at remembering to feed himself.Tam was always good at making sure Tim ate.She claims that he was just too skinny and would attempt to force-feed him every chance she got. 

Tim hums to himself as he unlocks the front door to his apartment.He was supposed to be at the tower by midnight.For once, he didn’t have to rush to get there or run the risk of being late. 

There were even times that Tim thought that his three-floor apartment a little…much. 

When Tim had bought it, he'd never expected that all of the space would bother him.  Spending most of his childhood alone at the Drake house and then at the Manner, large empty space had never been an issue.

And Tim had been fine with it until he had started to spend more time at the tower.Tim smiles at the thought of the other Titans while dumping his briefcase onto the couch and throwing his suit jacket down too (his mother, or Alfred for that matter, would have been horrified that Tim had just thrown a custom made Armani suit onto the ground, like _trash_? but, hey, they weren’t here so what they do?).Tim heads down the hallway towards his bedroom, taking off the pieces of _Tim Wayne: CEO_ costume off so he could put on his _Tim Drake: Red Robin_ uniform on instead.

The tie went on the guest bathroom’s doorknob, and the shoes get kicked down the hallway ahead (making a small crashing noise) of him into his room.By the time Tim reached his bedroom, he was just in his undershirt and pants.

Red stills.

Something wasn’t right.

Red looks around, trying to figure out what was misplaced.His eye roved over the neat mess also known as his closet.He really should get somebody in to clean it but who has the time to vet a new hire?His dresser was pulled open with clothing spilling out of it. 

Tim did have a ridiculous amount of clothing. 

Tim’s eyes froze on his bedside table.There was the usual clutter (empty soda cans, coffee mugs, Chinese food containers, etc.) but there, sitting neatly embedded on top of all of the disarray was a gleaming knife. 

A blade used personally by the Demon’s Head. 

Tim had only seen that dagger a handful of times before.None of those memories were pleasant.

A bubble of panic began to form in his chest. _Shit, shit, shit.I do not have time for this today Ra’s_.Tim casually reached towards his distress beacon. 

He hadn’t even moved an inch before pain met him. 

Tim was hurled forward before slamming down onto his bed by a force behind him.

“Now, now, Detective.We can’t have you spoiling all the fun now, can we?”Ra’s voice came from a spot a few feet in front of Tim where he'd magically appeared.

 _Fucking hell.I don’t have time for this_.

“We wouldn’t want you to call those pesky Titans, now would we?”

“Go to Hell, Ra's.”Tim's voice was somewhat less intimidating, what with the three ninjas smashing into his back and a pillow smothering him.  

“Tut, tut.Language, young Detective.”Tim feels the stab of a syringe going into his neck followed by a burning sensation.The world began to get fuzzy.“It wouldn’t do for the next Demon’s Head to insult his predecessor.”

There's a rushing noise in Tim's ears which is only drowned out by the steady beat of his heart.  Lights began to dim.  Tim's arms were getting heavier as he struggled to move.  Tim give a weak kick towards the person pinning him down wich barely rocks the bed.  The world is quickly closing in on Tim.

Before he completely passes the fuck out, Tim manage to say, “What would you prefer Ra's  _Real Housewives of Gotham_ or _Metropolis_?Because one of those **will** be playing on a loop for **days** before I’m done.” 

The last sound Tim hears before sleep overtakes him is of Ra's laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Click here](https://reallyautomaticvoid.tumblr.com) for my tumblr and thanks for reading!
> 
> P.S. Happy Pi Day!!!


	2. Where's Tim?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conner and Bart come to town looking for Tim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who read the last chapter! I hope you guys like this one as much!
> 
> No beta, so all mistakes are on me :).

“I’m telling you, Red should have checked in with one of us by now.It’s been—what?A week since anybody heard from him.”

“Six days, Bart, and six days is not exactly a long time for Red to be out of contact,” Conner counters.“You know Tim; he probably just got distracted by a project and didn’t realize it's been a week.Remember that weekend we thought he was kidnapped, but it turned out he was just playing Minecraft?”

Bart wrinkles his nose.“Do I remember?I was the one who found him.I don’t think I’ll ever be able to un-smell _that_ smell.”

Conner laughs.Tim had been rank after not sleeping (or showering) for over seventy-two hours.Conner had used his heat vision to incinerate the clothes that Tim had been wearing.Tim (who didn’t care a bit about the clothes) lost his shit when they took away his coffee. 

It hadn’t been pretty when Tim had realized Bart had thrown out all of his coffee.All of it.Even the beans.Conner still had a few scars from _that_ experience.

This time Conner had a bad feeling in his gut, which is why he was humoring Bart into visiting their favorite Robin.Or, at least, that’s what he told himself.He couldn’t bring himself to think about the alternative.Plus, he loved spending time with his favorite speedster.

“Do you remember how to get in?”They were standing inside of Tim’s apartment but outside of his perch.

 _No_ , thought Con, _I don’t remember how to get in_.And the last they had forced their way in, well, Con was sure that Tim would have updated his security since then. 

At least twice. 

Probably three times.

Con runs his fingers through his hair.“He’s probably changed the protocols since the last time we were here.”

Bart swears.“Right.Gotta love the paranoia.”

Con doesn’t answer.He scratches his head.“Well, it doesn’t do us any good if we can’t get in.Come on, let’s go check his safe houses.”

They turn to leave.As Conner looks around, he realizes something.The whole apartment looked clean.Too clean.As they hurried by, Conner glanced into the kitchen.There aren’t any dishes in the sink or, for that matter, anywhere.Last time Tim had ( _For lack of a better term_ ) _gone on a bender,_ his apartment had looked like something out of a war zone. Conner used his X-ray vision to see that the entire apartment was, completely and totally—

“Hey, Bart, doesn’t seem a little too… _clean_ in here?”

Bart furrows his brow before taking a lap around the apartment.“Eerily clean,” Bart nods.“Maybe he finally cracked and hired someone?”Bart’s voice is doubtful. 

Conner doubts it too.Tim could (and has) live in a sea of mess.Conner remembers one particular (disgusting) time at the Tower when the rest of the Titans had gone home for two weeks and leaving the newly minted Red Robin without any supervision. 

When the Titans finally returned, it looked as though a bomb had blown.In fact, Conner thought one _had_ and ran through the whole tower looking for Tim before they found him, in the eye of the storm, with a wrench in one hand and a book in the other working on one of his many bikes.

Seriously though, who reads _The Art of War_ while repairing a motorcycle? 

The Titans had a conversation with Tim about his cleaning habits after that.He’d been better after that.Sort of.At least in public spaces.

“Dunno, maybe?”Con’s voice sounds equal hesitant as they shut the front door to Tim’s apartment. 

Bart punches in the rearming code.There's a slight hiss and a clunk before the door locks.

Conner and Bart started down the street.“I doubt that he hired someone.”

“So, what?He cleans up before falling of the face of the planet?That doesn’t sound like him.Remember that moldy ‘specimen’ that we found in the back of the fridge after we were gone that month?”

Bart snorts.“I still don’t understand how Tim got a rice cake to mold.”

“You don’t have any imagination then, do ya, Blue?”Bart and Conner froze at the sound of that voice. 

_Fuckityfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck_. 

Conner shoves back a memory of Robin coming to the Tower with a row of neat stitches around his neck.When the Titans had asked Tim what had happened, he had just shrugged and muttering something about Batfamily drama.It hadn’t been that hard to figure out, especially when Nightwing had called about a hundred times to check on Robin before Robin finally got tired of Nightwing’s pestering. 

Blocking N’s calls hadn’t worked out the way exactly how Robin had wanted since N took it as an invitation to invade the tower for the rest of the weekend. 

Before that visit, Conner hadn’t known that Robin knew how to hug, let alone **cuddle** (it was adorable, and they still have the footage of that in a place where Tim could never get to it.Much to Tim’s chagrin). 

Nightwing hadn’t let Robin out of his sight (or his cuddly octopus grip) for longer then it took Robin to use the bathroom for the rest of the weekend. 

Conner remembers Robin muttering to Nightwing something about how he and Batman were overreacting, that if Red Hood had wanted him dead, Robin wouldn’t be here.To that, Nightwing pursed his lips and squeezed Robin tighter but didn’t disagree.

Then again, that was back when Nightwing (or Dick) had time for Tim.Or had given any sort of shit about Tim outside of what Tim could do for Dick. 

From the way Tim was talking about the Bats now (which was becoming more and more rare), Jason was the only one who was giving any sort of shit about Tim these days.Jason had even saved Tim’s ass a few time while Tim was here in Gotham without turning Tim into the Bat.

Still, Conner isn’t one hundred percent sure that Jason wouldn’t try to kill him and Bart just for shits and giggles. 

Slowly, they turned to see not one but _two_ members of the Batfamily.It appeared that Dick—Officer Grayson _he’s in uniform, dumbass_ —and Jason had gone out for breakfast together. 

Jason was holding a steaming cup of tea while Dick— _Officer Grayson_ —was carrying a pink box.Conner and Bart quickly exchanged a look (that the Bats did not miss) before Conner answers.

“Heya, Jason, Di—Officer Grayson.How’s it hanging,” Conner asks breezily.

Dick immediately starts babbling about Babs and the date that they went on last night, and oh, ho, just how much _fun_ it had been.Or was it about their latest fight? 

Conner tunes out quickly.There was only so much Dick a person could take.

Jason’s eyebrows shoot up, clearly not buying Conner blasé tone.His voice cuts across Dick’s like butter.“Nothn’ much.Whatcha ya doin’ on the wrong side of the tracks?Don’tcha know that Metropolis is that way,” Jason nods towards the city.

Plastering on one of the best fakes smiles Conner has ever seen, Bart says, “just stopped by to say hey to Tim.You know how it is with people you care about.”

This made Jason’s eyebrows, somehow, shoot up higher while Dick just looked confuses.Conner internal winces. _Sorry, Tim.We owe you one, man._

“I thought he was with you guys this weekend,” Dick— _Officer Grayson_ —asks.“He told Bruce he was going to San Fran last week.”

Connor gets the overwhelming urge to crown Dick the king of Clueless Town ( _population one_ ), but he squashes it.He has other things to do today. 

Like find Tim. 

Since, clearly, none of the Bats were going to be doing it.

Surprisingly (to the Metas anyways) Jason shoots Dick an exasperated look.Or at least that’s what it looks like to Conner before it’s gone and all of Jason’s attention is back on the Metas.“Miss ‘em already?” 

The question was causally enough, but both Conner and Bart had spent enough time around Tim to know when someone was fishing.

Conner shrugs.“Can’t get too much of a good thing, can you?”It wasn’t really an answer, and if the thinning of his lips were any indication, Jason caught that. _In for a penny_ , Conner thought before lightly asking, “you guys seen a lot of Tim lately?”

Bart uses his super speed to elbow Conner in the side.The Bats might not have seen Bart’s movements, but Conner certainly felt it.He fights to keep the wince off of his face.

Dick— _Officer Grayson_ —shrugs.“I just saw Tim a week— _maybe_ two back.Why?Is he okay?”

 _Hell of a time to decide to care, there Dick_ , Conner thinks. _Besides, he was at the Tower two weeks ago, and you sure as hell weren’t in San Fran._

“Wasn’t home.Don’t worry; we’ll catch him next time.” 

The double meaning of that statement is clearly lost on Dick, but Jason’s eyes narrow.“Hey Big Bird,” Dick shoots him an annoyed look, “ain'tcha late for work?”

Dick checks his watch and swears.“Shit, yeah.I’ll see you tonight, Jay.Bart, Conner, good to see you again.” 

Bart waved halfheartedly while Conner merely nodded.Dick hugged Jason (something that Conner was sure should have ended up with Dick in the hospital but somehow _didn’t_ ) before disappeared.

As soon as Dick was gone, Jason turned to the two metas.“Where the fuck is Tim?”

Conner had to control the strange urge to run. 

To Mars.Conner hears it’s nice this time of year.

He and Bart exchange a look.

“Not home.”

Jason let out an impressive amount of cursing, not all of which were in English (Conner coulda swore he heard some Kryptonese). 

“Don’t fucking try and play me, kids.Ya wouldn’t be here if ya weren’t worried.So I’m gonna ask you again, **nicely** , and this time, you’re **gonna** give me a straight answer or I’m **gonna** be pissed.Where? The fuck?Is Tim?”Jason looked between the two as he asked the question.

Bart and Conner exchange another look.Tim had made it clear that the Bats were very much not on the _How Red is Doing_ need to know list.The first team meeting Tim came as Red Robin he had made that much clear. 

_I don’t care if I’m bleeding out in a ditch.Don’t call them._

Conner suppresses a shudder at that memory.It had been an uncomfortable meeting for many reasons. 

For one, Conner knew both Gar and Raven were unhappy about the arrangement.They had been tight with Nightwing back in the day.

After weeks and then months and then a fucking **year** went by without so much as a postcard (during which time Tim had almost died on four—or was it five? —separate occasions), even the Titans who had been on the fence about keeping the Bats at bay were entirely on board.

Conner would always be grateful for the time that Bruce had been there for Conner before Clark had stepped up but…but Conner didn’t think he’d ever get passed carrying Red’s broken body out of the H.I.V.E. Headquarters and the _weeks_ that it took him and the rest of the Titans to get Red to take it easy and to stay in bed. 

Conner remembers Bart angry (worried) muttering that it would be easier to keep him in bed if Tim’s knocked out.It was finally Raven, of all people, who convinced Tim to stay in bed for the full time.All by just raising her eyebrow.

Nobody, except for maybe Gar, wanted to see where that raised eyebrow led to.

Hood though…Conner knows that Tim had made a few references to getting along better Jason AND that Hood didn’t always consider himself a Bat either. 

He still wasn’t sure how Tim would feel about them telling Jason anything though.

With another glance at Bart, Conner finally says, “we’re not sure.”

Several emotions flicker across Jason’s face.Conner swore that he heard a slight wobble in his voice when he asked, “wha’d mean?”

Bart got there before Conner did.“Like Con said, we’re not sure.But if Dick just saw him, I’m sure he’s fine.Probably just at WE—”

Before Bart could finish his sentence, however, Jason has his phone out and scrolling through his contacts.It was something to be said that two of the fastest people on earth couldn’t stop Jason before the phone is on Jason’s ear.

“Jason don’t—”

“Shh, shh.I’m on the phone.”

“Wayne Enterprise, this is Tam.How can I help you,” Tam cool voice answers on the other end.

“Heya, Tam, it’s Jason.”The calm in his voice is impressive; Con has to admit.

“No, Jason, I’m not going out with you.Even if you did come back from the grave just for me.”Conner has to do a double take on the phone.Her bemused tone made it sound like Jason did this every day.Which, in all fairness, Jason might.

“You don’t know what you’re missing, luv, but not why I’m calling.I was wondering if da’ boss man was in.”

“Bruce?I haven’t seen him this morning.”

“Nah, da other one.”

“Tim?He’s out of town until later this month as far as I know.Why?”

“Just wondering.Had a tech question for ‘em.” 

“Well, if you email him, I’m sure he’ll get back to you as soon as he can,” Tam sighs.

“Thanks, Tam.Talk ta ya later.”Jason hangs up the phone before she could reply.“He’s not there.Any other bright ideas?”Though the tone was sarcastic, Conner could hear the real concern.

“We have a few ideas,” Bart dances around the question, “but we're not sure yet.”

Jason snorts.He fished around in his pocket and produces another cellphone.“Dis,” he tells them, “is a burner.The only number in it is mine.You’re going to call me when ya find him, or I’ll be forced to come around ta the Tower for a visit.Clear?”

Conner takes the phone and put it in his pocket.His voice did not squeak ( _shut up Bart, it didn’t_ ) when he answers, “crystal.”

Jason leaves without another word.Faster than any non-meta person should have to right to move, he’s gone.

There are several minutes where Bart and Conner just stare, dumbfounded. 

Bart was the first to speak.“That was one of the most terrifying things I’ve ever experienced in my life.And I’ve _died_.”

A crazy, hysterical laugh bubbles out of Con’s chest before he could stop himself.

*     *     *

It takes all of three seconds after ditching the fuckin’ metas (like he couldn’t ditch them.Please.Jason ditches _Dick and his_ ** _hugs_** on the reg.) to call Roy.It rang twice.

“Yello.”Roy had his, _I’m busy, so this better be important_ voice on.

“Replacement’s missing.” 

Jason slides into one of his lesser used safe houses.It’s a studio apartment that has all the basics shit that Jason needed.A stiff couch that could be pulled out into a fuckin’ awful bed.The crappy TV that could only get the local news if the wind was blowin’ in the right direction.And fridge with some non- perishable food in it. 

It was not one of his better safe houses.

“Tim?”

“Yeah.Clone Boy and Pint Sized Flash are here looking fer him.”

There is a long pause.

“Okay.”Roy took a deep breath; Jason recognizes Roy’s calculating voice.“Okay.I’ll drop Lian at Oliver’s and be there in the morning.We’ll bust some heads and tear up shit until we find the little bugger.”

Jason’s lips twitch.“Ain’t ya still on Oliver’s shit list?”

Roy chuckles.“Come on, I doubt he even remembers.”

“You blew up his beach house.”

“You helped.”

Pulling his phone away from his ear, Jason stares at it for a full thirty seconds before shrugging putting it back up to his ear.

“Yeah, I guess I did.”Jason heard a scuffle from the other side of the phone.

“Dad, who are you talking to?”Jason hears a muffled version of his niece talking before rustling and a clear, “hello?”

“Heya kid.”Jason sunk on to the couch.

“Uncle Jay!When are you going to come and visit me?”

“I dunno kid.When are ya and your Daddy gonna invite me?”Jason grins at the indignity square from Liam and the sigh from Roy.

“Liam, go grab your bag, sweetheart.”Jason could hear the suppressed annoyance in Roy’s voice. 

“But Daaaddddy-”

“Come on sweetie; you’re going to go to Grampy Ollie house.” 

Jason snorts as Liam squeaks in delight.“Grampy Ollie?Please let me be there when you run **that** nickname by him the first time.”

“Too late.Liam called him that last week.I thought he was going to have a stroke with how red his face turned.‘Course, I damn near busted a rib from trying not to laugh so he mighta and I just missed it.”

“Shit and I missed it.Fuck, that sucks.”

“Yeah, shit, Jay I completely forgot.Shit.Lemme call ya back in a minute.”

Without waiting for an answer, or a goodbye, Jason hears the three beeps that meant the call has been disconnect.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jason works on mastering the urge to chuck his phone through the wall.

Breath in.Breath out.

Roy’s gonna call him back.

Breath in.Breath out.

Lian will be fine at Oliver’s.

Breath in.Breath out.

Replacem— **Tim** is going to be okay.

Breath in.Breath out.

Jason did **not** want to (need to) give in to the Pit.

Breath in.Breath out.

Everything gonna work out in the end.

Breath in.Breath out.

The phone vibrates in Jason's hand.He looks down to see Roy and Lian’s faces smiling up from the cracked screen.

Funny.Jason doesn’t remember his screen being cracked before.

Jason thumbs the answer button.“Hey.”

“Hey, Jay, I’m really sorry, but I just called Oliver to see if he could take Lian for a few days, but he reminded me that he’s out of the country on Queen business ’til the end of the week.And since there isn’t anyone at their penthouse…”Roy’s voice trails off.“Jay?Are you there?I need you to say something.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure,” Roy’s voice is doing that fucking mother hen thing that normal is reserved for Lian.“‘Cause, no offense, Babe, but you sound like shit.”

Jason grunts.“Like I said, Bart and Conner are here lookin’ for him.They’ll find him.”

“Yeah, no.I know the Titans have Tim’s back.I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine.”Jason stands up and heads over to the kitchen to look at what he’s got in the way of food.

There was another long pause before Roy answers, disbelief oozing from every syllable.“Really?”

“Yep.”Jason pops the ‘p’ as he puts the kettle on to heat.

“Okay,” Roy replies, clearly sounding like it’s anything but, “but if Tim’s not back by the weekend, I’m going to come out there, and we’ll bust some head until we find him.Deal?”

Jason watches as steam begins to pour out of the spout.“Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> [Click here](https://reallyautomaticvoid.tumblr.com) for my tumblr!


	3. There's Tim!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conner and Bart find Tim. Or, rather, Tim finds Conner and Bart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy (late) Birthday Alfred!
> 
> It's the thought that counts right? Not timeliness? 
> 
> Right? 
> 
> Right.

After checking the dozen safe houses that they knew about plus a couple of old ones that Tim had abandoned (shocking an old lady when they burst in through her front door, though they did get pie…) Conner and Bart are out of ideas.

“I’m telling you,” Conner runs to keep up with Bart, “I don’t think he’ll be there.”

“It’s as good as any to regroup,” Bart counters as he punches in the security code.“Besides, I don’t want to miss Tim’s apartment being this clean.It might not ever happen again.”

Conner snorts because _yeah_ , Bart has a point. 

Conner follows Bart into the living room.Conner walks towards the perch’s entrance and stares at it again. 

_How bad could the security be?_

Conner hesitates for half a second before using his X-ray vision to see through the door into the stare case.Or _trying_ to use his X-ray vision. 

He couldn’t see anything. 

“Shit, Tim lead lined the goddamn door.”

“Because, _of course_ , he did,” Bart snorts, staring at the door, “that’s our paranoid bird.”

“It’s not paranoia if someone is really after you,” a new, weary voice came from right behind them. 

Jumping, Conner and Bart before turning to see, “Tim!”

It’s something to be said that two of the fastest people in the world couldn’t catch Tim before he collapses onto the couch.Tattered suit pants and collared, long sleeves hung off of Tim’s frame making him like he’d lost ten pounds. 

Clammy skin?Check.At least a half a dozen new scratches, some infected, covering his arms and face?Check.Giant fresh gash covering Tim’s forearm?Check. 

Conner knows there was more but didn't trust himself to use his x-ray vision.With how shitty Tim looks, literally the last thing Tim needs is for Conner to fuck up and fry him instead of scanning him. 

Instead, Conner gently puts his hand on Tim’s forehead. 

“You look like shit, Tim,” Conner mildly says.He mouths _fever_ at Bart who nods before running off to get supplies.“You know, when someone is missing their spleen, normal they do little things like gee, I don’t know, eat.Sleep.Take a shower.”

A faint smile twitches on Tim’s face.“I’ll be sure to let Ra’s know that you’re not interested in his vacation package.He was so hoping that you'd be going next.”

“You were with Ra?”Bart reenters the room but freezes at Con’s words. 

The exchange a look; both knew the Demon’s Head has an unhealthy interest (obsession) in Tim.Tim’s never been keen on sharing the hows and whys of that interest which pisses Conner off to no end. 

“Yup.Not the best vacation I’ve ever been on but still not the worst.That still the time that Bruce tried to make us all go on that family retreat when the Demon tried to leave me in the woods to starve.”Tim’s voice gets higher as he mimics Damian in a dead-on impression.“ _But Father, why do we even need Drake here.I’m here now; you don’t need a cheap replacement.Grayson, I don’t care if you like him; he’s weak and should be eliminated._ Fuck, that was a long week.”

Conner and Bart exchange an _awshiiiiiit_ look. 

They know some of the Batfamily drama. 

No, that’s a lie; they knew very, very little about the Batfamily drama.Tim rarely (if ever) talks about the ins and outs of what actually happened once Damian arrived at the Manner.All Conner knows for sure was once Damian moved in, Tim had slowly, but surely started spending more time in San Francisco and less and less time in Gotham. 

_Fuuuuuuuuck_ , Tim must really be fuck he’s talking about it so freely. 

Bart grabs the thermometer and gives it to Tim.

Tim makes a face.

Bart arches an eyebrow.“It’s your mouth, or I’ll **find** someplace to put it.” 

Tim takes the thermometer, putting it under his tongue.After thirty seconds, it beeps with a temperature of 101°.Bart and Conner exchange a knowing look.

“Oh, don’t look at each other like that,” Tim moans.“I’m fine.I just need a little sleep.”

Conner snorts.“No doubt, but let’s get you something to drink first, okay?When was the last time you ate?”

“Had a salad with Tam,” Tim grunt. 

“Salad doesn’t count.When was the last time you had _real_ food?”

“Salad does so count.It had chicken on it and everything.”Tim whines as he rolls over and shoves his face into the back of the couch. “Sleep.” 

Conner looks at Bart who mouths _fuck_.

Little known Titan lore: if Tim Drake whines about wanting to sleep, it means some shit has gone down.

“Man, you really gotta learn how to take care of yourself.” 

“I’ll be sure to let Ra’s know you don’t approve of his solitary confinement package.”

Conner files _that_ away for future discussion (which Conner’s sure won’t get him anywhere) before hoisting Tim up bridal style.“Come on, man.Let’s get you some food.Can’t take your antibiotics on an empty stomach.”

Tim hisses.“I hate those things.They always make me nausea.” 

Bart shakes his head, muttering, “sure it's not the whole _not_ eating anything for a week things?”

Tim’s head lulls back to glare at Bart.“Nope.Defiantly the antibiotic.”

Conner doesn’t say anything, as he’s too busy trying not to laugh.Or cry.He isn’t sure which. 

“Here you go,” Conner deposits Tim at the table where Tim slumps, face first, into the table.“What do you want—uh, what do you _have_ to eat?”

“Coffee.”

Bart snorts.“One, that’s a drink, not a food.Two, you know the rules: no caffeine on an empty stomach.”Bart zips around the kitchen opening cabinets, looking for food.He finally ends at the empty fridge.“Power bars, energy drinks, and coffee?Really, Tim?That’s all you have in your kitchen?Even I can’t make something out of that.More importantly, how are you alive if that’s all you eat in Gotham?How have you **not** had a heart attack?”

Bart’s— the best chef among the Titans—could do wonders in the kitchen. Conner once saw Bart make a mouthwatering casserole out of an orange, licorice, tofu, and a few other ingredients that Conner missed.As Bart put it, “if you had to eat twenty thousand calories a day, _you’d_ get good at cooking too.” 

“Coffee,” Tim stubbornly repeats.

Rolling his eyes, Bart says,“I’ll be back,” before zooming out of the room without another word. 

Conner goes over to the cabinet that holds some of Tim’s emergency _shits hit the fan_ supplies including bags of saline solution and an IV.Tim eyes Conner as he moves around but doesn’t object when Conner gently put the IV needle into Tim’s arm.Although, Conner isn’t sure that Tim has the energy _to_ object to anything that the Meta might do to him.Conner sits down, watching the IV drip.Tim closes his eyes; head resting on the table. 

“You want to talk about it?”Conner murmurs.

“No.”It’s the strongest thing Conner’s heard Tim say since Tim had stumbled back into his apartment, so Conner doesn’t argue.

After about ten minutes, Bart comes charging back in.“You know, fast food places really aren’t that fast.It took them FOREVER to get the food done.”

Conner snorts, “I’m surprised you didn’t go behind the counter and make it yourself.”

Bart tosses Conner a burger before handing Tim some plain toast.“Thought about it.Decided that it would probably just draw too much attention to myself.”

“You guys know I’m off of carbs.”Tim groans.

“Shut up and eat your toast or I’m calling Cassie.” 

Tim flinches but starts nibbling at his toast.“I still want some coffee.”

*     *     *

After a long talk with Roy, who didn’t believe that Jason was okay which he **was** , Jason’s suiting up for the night when he feels his phone vibrate.Fishing his phone out of his pocket, the new text alert flashes from an unknown number.Jason opens it and read:

_Got Tim.Heading back to the Tower._

Jason blinks, a knot that he hadn’t known was in his lower gut loosens, before he fumbles with his phone for a minute, trying to figure out what to write (things ranging from where the hell was he to get his ass to the cave **now** all floated through his head) before finally settled on:

_Is he okay?_

Jason had finished zipping up his jacket (contemplating the best way to go and find those ‘heroes’) when his phone went off again. 

_He says we’re inhuman because we won’t give him coffee.See you around._

Jason punches the front of his locker. 

Luckily, it didn’t dent; otherwise, he’d have to deal with disappointed Alfred sighs for the next month.He didn’t like being brushed off especially by a couple of pip-squeaks. 

Jason’s _Robin Sense_ went off before he saw anything.“The fuck you want?”

Dick appears right next to him because _fuck him_ Dick had been goddamn Batman. 

“What happened to your phone?”

Because _shit_ he’s still clutching his cracked screen phone in his hand. 

Jason glares at Dick.“Nothing.”

Dick hums. “Okay.You seemed distracted.Everything okay?”

Jason slams his locker shut.“I’m fine.” 

Dick gives Jason a smile that _only_ an older sibling can.

Fucking hell, why is Jason here again?

Alfred’s food. 

Right.

_Fucking hell, say it already._

“I was just thinkin’ about Babybird.” 

That got Dick’s attention. 

Jason grins to himself. 

“Why were you thinking about him?” Dick nonchalantly asks which he mighta bought if Jason couldn’t see Dick’s back stiffening and his muscles were twitching.

“Just trying to remember the last time I saw ‘em in the cave is all.” 

Jason isn’t one for sublet. 

It takes for fuck ever for someone ( _cough, cough, Dick…_ ** _Bruce_** ) ta realize the fucking point you’re trying to make. 

It’s much more satisfying when you could smack someone in the face with their stupidity. 

Preferable with a fist.

The Bats, however, like to believe that they were fucking perfect (especially Dick, _especially_ in the brother department).They didn’t take it so well when they get caught being stupid.

Dick, for his part, gives Jason a bewildered look.“What are you talking about, Jay?He was just here last week.He ran a virus sweep on the Batcomputer.” 

Jason fought the urge to smack Dick.

Repeatedly.

With his fist.

Instead, he cocks an eyebrow at his brother.“That was six months ago.”

The reaction is instant.Dick recoils like Jason _had_ punched him.He stares at Jason for a full minute before slowly shaking his head though it looks like there're about a billion thoughts flashing behind Dick’s eyes.

“What?No, it wasn’t.It was last week,” Dick insists, his voice rising.“Do you honestly think that I haven’t seen my brother in more than six months?I would have noticed not seeing him for that long.”

Jason pauses, giving Dick one of his patented, _you’re full of shit but whatever you need to do to let you sleep at night_ looks before raising his hands. 

“Sure, Big Bird.Whatever helps you sleep at night.” 

Opening his locker, Jason looks for his rubber bullets. 

_Where the fuck are my motherfucking rubber bullets?_

Days like today make him reconsider rejoining the Bats.Before all Jay had to do was shoot the asshole and move on. 

Now, he has play nice with the Bats. 

Some days, Jason wonders if it was worth it. 

Then Alfred makes Jason’s favorite dessert, or Bruce would give him one of those goddamn almost smiles ( _which was like a goddamn hug from the old grump_ ), and Jason found himself coming back home. 

_Home_.Jason mused to himself. 

It’s weird after all of these years to have a place that he’d consider a home.

“Jason?” Dick's voice sounds off. 

“Yo,” Jason grunts without looking at Dick. 

There was a pause. 

Dick shifted uncomfortably as Jason finally found his bullets. 

Damnit, Damian must have gotten into his locker again and moved shit around just ta fuck with Jason. 

Again.

Maybe it was time for Jason to teach Titus how delicious Damian’s slippers were.

“Has he really not—did I miss—er—never mind.” 

Jason looks up in time to catch a glimpse of Dick disappearance ( _showoff_ ) before Jason he could say anything.

*     *     *

The next morning in Red Robin’s room at the Titans Tower, Tim’s fever’s back down to normal.He was still coughing but he fine. 

Really, he doesn’t understand _why_ Bart and Conner are hovering.He’s in bed just like they want him to be. 

Snug as a goddamn bug. 

It’s Hell.

Tim does, however, have a company to run and needs to catch up.

“Don’t you have school,” Tim coughs. 

“Flex day,” Conner answers while Bart nods along.

Damn.Tim thinks.“Why don’t you guys go catch a movie or something?” 

Conner’s lip twitch and Bart gets a glint in his eye.

_Shit_.

“A movie does sound like fun.”Bart turns to Conner, “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Marathon?”

“Marathon.”

“Good, bad, or terrible movies?”

“Mix, of course.”

“Perfect.”

“Food?”

Bart drums his thumbs Tim’s desk.“Give me half an hour.”And Bart dashes off.

Tim looks up at Con.“Do I get a vote in this?”

“Nope,” Con pop the p.

“Fantastic.I do have work to get done.”

“You were kidnapped and torched.You can take the day off.”

“Red Robin, maybe, but Tim Wayne?Didn’t you hear?He just got back from a lovely whirlwind vacation.”

Conner rolls his eyes.“Really now?Were there any hot models there?”

“Not a one sadly.There was some lovely time to meditate though.”

“Don’t they call that solitary confinement?”

Tim shrugs, “eh, if life gives you lemons.”

“You say ‘what the hell?I ordered oranges.’”Con smirks.

Tim rolls his eyes.“Well, I _did_ order oranges.”Tim laughs which was a mistake because it set off another round of coughing.Before he could ask, Conner was handing him a glass of water.Tim grimaces.“Coffee would be better.”

“You know the rules:No coffee for twenty-four hours after a fever spike.”

Tim hisses.“It was only 101.That’s barely a fever.”

Conner looks utterly unmoved by this argument.

_Bastard_.

“Close enough.”

“I’m a mature twenty.I can take care of myself.”

“Uhuh.And what show did you leave as a parting gift to Ra’s?”

“Teletubbies,” Tim grins.Not his new business-friendly smile but a _real_ grin that let the former Robin shin through.“I thought he’d enjoy it.Plus he could use a refresher on how sharing is caring.”

Con laughs at that before sobering.“You know, I was thinking,” Tim internal winces, but keeps his face smooth.He knew this was coming but it did make the experience any more enjoyable, “maybe it’s time you move out of Gotham?You could move to the tower full time or something.”

Tim keeps his expression smooth.“Aren’t you the one who’s always nagging me to get out of the tower?”

Con glowers at him.“To see a movie, take a walk in the park, go on a date. **Not** to go back to one of the most crime-ridden cities in the world.Hell, in the universe.”Con took a deep calming breath.

Tim thinks about it.He _really_ thinks about it. He considers moving out of Gotham permanently.What would the ramification of leaving the city that's rejected him time and time again?And while the idea is tempting, to be free of the Bats ( _fuck yeah that’s an excellent thought now, isn’t?_ ), of all of the baggage that came with Gotham, but—

“It’s home, Con.I’m—I’m not ready to leave it yet.”Tim’s voice sounds young, even to his ears.

Con sighs.“Yeah, that’s what you always say.Had to ask though.I think you should still move though.Ra’s knowing—” Tim cuts him off with a snort.

“Ra’s make it a point to know what laundry soap I use.Hell, he makes it a point to know what kind of cough drops I take.He’ll know if I move.Might as well stay where I’m at for now.” 

The rest of the argument is cut short by Bart reentering the room carrying way, **way** too much food.Bart then speeds back out of the room only to reappear in a blink of an eye with a rather large stack of movies. 

Tim stares at the pile. 

No way they’re getting through that stack in one day.

Bloody hell.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> [Click here](https://reallyautomaticvoid.tumblr.com) for my tumblr.


	4. The Great Coffee Spill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick tries to talk to Tim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst warning!

It's been a fortnight since Tim returned from his _vacation_. 

For some reason, none of the other Titans found it nearly as funny as Tim to call his kidnapping and torture for days on end a _vacation_. 

Cassie had gone as far as to threaten to make him get a psych eval if he didn’t stop.Tim grumbled at that.He was the team leader.If he wanted to call solitary confinement ‘mediation’ he should be allowed to do that.

Melodramatic.

In lieu of a psych eval, the team agreed, albeit reluctantly, to let Tim go back to Gotham to catch up on paperwork. 

Tam had been calling twice a day to see when Tim was planning on coming back.After the fourth time Con had been chewed out by Tam—

_“she does realize I shoot laser beams from my eyes,” he asked Tim after a brutal conversation._

_Tim flipped through a magazine, the corner of his lips twitching.“You do realize she doesn’t care?The quarterly reports are coming up.”_

—he practically begged the other to let Tim go.

_“She threatened to tear my liver out through my throat.”Conner’s voice did **not**_ _tremble._

_“Wow, how very Game of Thrones of her.”_

_“Bart!”_

_Bart rolls his eyes.“You don’t think she can do it, do you?”_

_“Dude, I don’t wanna find out!”_

However, there were stipulations. 

Because, **of course** , there were stipulations. 

Tim isn’t allowed to work for more than two hours at a time after which he is to take at least a fifteen-minute break. 

At **least** eight hours of sleep. 

No patrols. 

Three meals a day but preferably _more._

Plus he’s supposed to avoid stress. 

Good grief, how is anything going to get anything done?

Tim enters the office at seven, anticipant a long, tedious day, full of paper cuts. 

What he does not expect is, before getting to the elevator, Tam grabbing and yanking him in. 

She presses a button for their floor, and the elevator started to elevate.

“Morning Tam,” Tim says mildly.“Something on your mind?Or are you finally ready to kill me for leaving you with all of that paperwork?” 

He sips his black coffee.Since the Titans hadn’t said anything about coffee, Tim took this to mean he’s allowed to drink as much as he wants. 

“Just let me finish my coffee first, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, you're hilarious but listen: I need to talk to you before we get to your office.”Tam took a deep breath.“I honest to **God** don’t know how he got in there.He was here before me this morning.”She pauses before muttering,“bounce around the place.”

Tim tilts his head. “Who, Bruce?Tam, his names on the door.”

Tam makes an exasperated noise through her nose.“No, no, not Bruce.D—” 

At that moment, the elevator dinged and the doors slowly opened to reveal—

“Timmy!”Dick exclaimed at the top of his lungs. 

Tim froze mid-sip, his eyes wide as saucers staring at Tam who looks like she’d swallowed a lemon. 

For the first time **ever** , Tim’s happy that his and Tam’s were the only offices on that floor.Having one’s former older brother, friend, mentor scream a childish nickname at the top of their lungs doesn’t lend itself a professional background. 

For some unknown reason, Dick threw his arms around Tim and pulled him into a bear hug. 

Unfortunately, this causes Tim to spill his almost full cup of coffee onto the ground.The three manage to jump out of the way of the hot liquid.Tim looks mournfully at the hot liquid that was seeping through the carpet fibers.

“Oops.Sorry about that Timmy.”Dick looks down at the now empty cup, squeezing Tim tighter.“Stuff not good for you anyways.”

Tim’s eye twitches. 

Taking a minute to clear his mind, Tim does a recount on his morning.

Dick was here. 

A Bat was here in his space. 

_His space_. 

Also, he didn’t have coffee. 

Aaaaaaaaaaand he’s been at work for less than five minutes.

Today's going to be hell, isn’t it?

Tim’s face slips into his _Tim Wayne: CEO_ mask now.He shoves Dick away ignoring the hurt expression on Dick’s face. 

“It just Tim.Tam, would you mind going down and getting me another cup? **Please**?”

Tam, who’d been making a valiant attempting to mop up some of the excess coffee, straightens up. 

“Sure thing, Tim.I’ll call maintenance to clean this up too.”She waves a the mess.

“Thanks, Tam.”Tam pushes the button that would return her to the ground floor. 

For a wild second, Tim considers hopping in after her to get away from Dick.He quickly dismisses this idea. 

It would be better to find out what Dick wanted, help him, and get him out of here.

Rules for dealing with the Bats, remember?

The elevator doors close with Tam inside of them.Tim turns to his office. 

“So, what do you need, Dick?”Tim marches into his office. 

Just because today was going to be hell doesn’t mean it wasn’t going to be a productive hell.Setting his briefcase down before starting up his computer for the day, Tim flits around the room, while Dick stands uncertainly at the door.

“What do I—Timmy, I don’t need anything.”There is something in Dick’s voice. 

Almost like concern.

Odd.

Tim didn’t think that there was anything that he could do that would hurt Dick.It wasn’t like Dick has been very concerned with Tim or anything Tim did since—Tim shut down _that_ line of thought. 

_Moving forward.Remember Drake?_ He tells himself. 

“It’s Tim.Then, if you don’t need anything, how can I help you?”His voice is detached. 

Disinterested.

Cold.

For some reason, Dick flinches.

Tim does a quick sweep of the room, and _no_ there aren’t any threats in here.

“It was just my day off and I—I just wanted to check up on my little brother.” 

Tim’s brow furrows. 

“Jason’s here?I haven’t seen him yet.Although, Tam’s been making a bit of a game kicking him out.She thinks he’s funny.”Tim pauses before groaning.“Wait, _please_ tell me Damian not here.Fuuuuuck, I do **not** have time for another hostile take over attempt.”Tim slumps down into his, groaning, before striating up. “Although, it might get me out of some of this paperwork.That’d be nice.”He squints at the pile of papers on the corner of his desk (which was almost a foot high and _how Tam_ ) before shaking his head.“No, no it’d probably just double it.” 

Tim sighs, grabbing the top folder to work on not bothering to look up at the man standing awkwardly in his doorway.

“No, little bro, I came here to check on you.Wanted to see if you wanted to play hooky or something?” 

Tim could feel his CEO mask slips for a second because he is genuinely confused. 

_Little Bro?_

_Why is Dick suddenly start to fain concern?_

“I’m not your brother, Dick.” 

Tim winces at his bluntness, but sometimes surprise does that to a person. 

And lack of coffee. 

Maybe next time Dick would just email Tim.It’s far more efficient that way.Plus, they wouldn’t have to bother with the faux pleasantries.

For some unknown reason to Tim, stating this simple fact turn Dick’s pale face beet red.“What are you talking about?Of course, you're my—”

“No, I’m not,”Tim interrupts. 

Tim doesn’t want to hear Dick lie to him.He isn’t Dick’s brother.He is okay with that.

Or at least, that’s what he kept telling himself. 

“Never have been.Never will be.If you don’t need anything, Dick, then can you go, please?I have a ton of work to get done.”Tim gestures at the pile of folders which Tim swears somehow got higher in the last thirty seconds. 

Tim scrutinizes the stack of work.

However, Dick doesn’t leave.Instead, he strolls into Tim’s office, put his fist down with a thud on Tim’s desk, and did his best Batman impersonation. 

Tim notes that Dick’s knuckles are white. 

Tim flips a page from the file that he’s looking at.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Timmy?”

“It’s Tim.And work?I assumed you were familiar with the concept since starting at GCPD.It’s were—”

“Not that Timmy,” Dick’s practically shouting.Tim winces glad that Tam isn’t here for this discussion.“What the fuck do you mean, _you’re not my brother_?”

Tim finishes the folder of paperwork that he’d been working on.He places it in his outgoing box before flipping open the next one. 

“I mean just that.I’m not a Wayne, Dick.I’m not a Bat.I was just the proxy—a substitute.I was there to make sure Bruce didn’t lose his shit after Jason died.I stood in until Damian came along.Now he’s here and has taken over.The substitute isn’t needed anymore.Now I’m just a good little soldier who does what’s needed.You guys don’t need to worry about me anymore.It’s fine, Dick.I’ve always liked being on my own.” 

Without looking, Tim could tell that Dick was vibrating.Tim isn’t sure why; this is all old news and Dick had been there.Dick stands there, watching Tim as he finishes the folder he’s working on. 

Tim’s booting up his email when Dick finally says, in a tight tone,“Timmy, you may not like it, but you are a Wayne and—”

“It’s Tim.Tim Drake.”

Dick rubs his temples.“Yes, I know, Drake-Wayne.”

“No, just Drake.I legally dropped Wayne months ago.Or has it been a year?”Tim muses more to himself than Dick.Dick recoils as if Tim brandished a hot iron towards him.

Tim hums to himself while he clicked through his emails. 

He’s hoping to Hell that Dick will catch on and _leave_.Dick had been Batman for Gods sakes; you’d think he’d know how to pick up on clues.Tim, though, has never been _that_ lucky.

“You dropped Wayne?”The voice that comes from Dick is so small that Tim isn’t even sure that he’d heard it.

Without looking up at Dick, Tim answers, “yep.Look, Dick, I’m swamped today so if there isn’t anything else,”Tim pauses, waiting for Dick to say something.He doesn’t. “Then can you go?Gotta keep the company running until one of you guys take it back.” 

Dick’s about to say something when Tam came in carrying Tim’s replacement coffee.She places it down on Tim’s desk. 

“Thanks, Tam.” Tim gratefully takes a swig of coffee before going back to his computer.

“You need anything else, Tim?” 

Tim glances at her.Tam has the _I will drag him out of here kicking and screaming if you want me to Boss.Just say the **word**._

Tim, however, opt for a different answer.“You want to do this paperwork for me?”

She snorts. “Not a chance.”

“Then no thanks, Tam.”

“Don’t forget, you have a meeting in ten.” 

“Got it.I’ll be out in a minute.Thanks, Tam.”

Tam exits Tim’s office.There's some sort of silent exchange between Dick and Tam but, with Tam’s back to him, Tim couldn’t make it out.

Humming to himself, Tim clicks through the last month of emails, deleting the ones he deems unimportant while saving the rest for later. 

After a solid five minutes of silence between the pair of them (in which Dick has not moved from his spot hovering over Tim; that has to be a record for Dick), Tim gets up to go to his meeting.

In his bent down form, Dick and Tim are eye level.“We’re not done here, Tim.”

For the first time that day, Tim looks directly into his former brother eyes. 

Storm clouds are brewing behind the elder’s eyes.Four years ago, Tim would have done anything to fix that.He would have said anything.

Not anymore.

Without blinking, Tim replies, “yes we are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sigh, what are you going to do, Dick?
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	5. Chats with the Bats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Batfamily compares notes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...yeah. Sorry about the last chapter. I didn't think it was *that* bad........but I did go back and put an angst warning on it for future readers.
> 
> Many thanks to my lovely beta reader, Yumixusagi, who did a fantastic job editing this chapter!  
>  
> 
> *Slight spoiler/trigger warning*  
> Here's the chapter that I've been worried about. It's heavy. Like, if you thought the last chapter was bad...yeah, sorry. 
> 
> Anyways, angst ahoy!

It’s rare for Tamara Fox to get angry.  

Annoyed, _sure_ , you would too if your ex-fake fiancé was your real boss who was _never in the damn office when he says he was going to be_.

But today, today Tam isn’t angry.  

She is furious.  

“How did you get into our office,” Tam asks, not looking up as she continues typing on her computer (emailing Conner and company to give them a heads up about _this_ little turn of events).  “And how did you know that Tim was going to be here today?  I wasn’t even a hundred percent sure he was going to be here until last night.”

And she hadn’t been.  Conner had been cagey on the phone with her, so clearly _whatever_ fresh crap had made its way onto Tim’s door had been bad.  She’d been planning on grilling Tim for the full scoop when he got into the office.  Not that Tam needs (or wants) the nitty-gritty of Tim’s… _extracurricular activities_ , but she wants to make sure Tim is…well, _safe_ is a bit of a stretch, but she’d settle for okay.

But, because, Dick, **today** of all day, had chosen to grace them with his presence, Tam knows one thing.  

Tim is _not_ okay.

Which means her (and Tim’s) lives are going to be a lot more complicated.

Dick ignores Tam’s questions.  “What was that about, Tam?”

Tam looks at Dick, giving Dick one of her Dad’s most unimpressed, _we aren’t doing that Bruce,_ looks.  She’d only seen it in action a few times.  It _always_ works.

“What do you mean?”  

A high pitch sound, somewhere between a cry of pain and exasperation escapes from Dick.

Tam cocks an eyebrow before turning back to her email.

“Tim tells me he’s not my brother anymore and you seem more worried about his coffee than that.”  Dick wildly gestures between Tam and the now empty elevator.

Tam resists rolling her eyes, instead, sending off her email and pulling a stack of evaluation form the copier had failed to staple together.  

Usually, Tam would have gotten an intern to do this, but, right now, she wants to make a **point**.

“You ever dealt with Tim without coffee?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Dick wince, because, yeah, _point_. “Only when he was fourteen.  It wasn’t that—”

“Yeah, it’s only gotten worse since then.”  

Slumping, Dick falls onto the couch opposite of Tam’s desk.

“I didn’t realize it had gotten that bad.”

Tam staples two sheets of paper together with a _snap_.  “No shit.”

“When did it get this bad?”  

Tam doesn’t immediately answer.  She doesn’t know _know_ were this all started.  Tam's got a few guesses — none of which she’s in the mood to share with Dick.

Instead, Tam' mouth decides to say, “I’d say somewhere around Iraq.”

Dick’s head pops up.  “When was he in Iraq?”

Tam clenches her jaw shut because, _shitshitshitshitshitshit, mouth: you weren’t supposed to say **that**! _

“Tam,” Dick’s tone was low and warning.

“Yes?”

“When?”

“Previously.”

“To?”

“Today.”

“Can you give me a straight answer?”

“Yes,” Tam snaps the stapler around two more pieces of paper, “I can.”

Dick pinches the bridge of his nose.  “I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

Tam’s lips twitch.  “Hook, line, and sinker.”

Dick sighs.  “Tam, you and I are friends, right?”

Tam snaps the stapler again.   _Trying a different approach, huh?_  “Correct.”

“And as friends, you want the best thing for me, right?”

“To a certain extent, yes.”

And she does.

Don’t get her wrong; typically, Dick is one of favorite people.  He’s smart, kind, and has a killer sense of humor (not to mention he’s not that hard on the eyes…).  

Unfortunately, sorting out the Wayne family woes is distinctly **not** part of her job description.

There isn’t enough money in the universe to make her willing to take on that job.

“Then, can you tell me what just happened?”

Tam stares at Dick for a long moment, considering her options.

She could lie, which would only end up with Dick camping out her all damn day, trying to get the truth out of her (or worst, **Tim** ).

She could tell Dick the whole _yeah, you fucked up your little brother up and I don’t think there’s anything you can do to fix it_ which would also end up with Dick here all **damn** day.  Except, he’d be trying to fix everything _broken_ with him and Tim, which would end…badly.

Or, option three:

“Well, you did drop in on his work, unannounced, which by the way, don’t think I didn’t notice you not answering _how you got into my office_ question, spilled his coffee, and call him _Timmy_. Everyone knows he hates that.”

“Yeah, but, he always, I don’t know, _jokingly_ hated it.”  

Tam resists slamming her head against her keyboard. “You sure about that?”

“Yes.”  Dick pouts.  

“Uhuh.  Maybe you don’t know him as well as you _think_ you do.”

Dick shot to his feet.  It would almost be intimidating, if not for the slight quiver of Dick’s lower lip.  “You don’t think I know him? I was there for him through the clench. I was there the first, the second, **and** the third time Jason tried to kill him.  I am always there for him.”

“Yeah?” Tam slams the stapler down, leans back in her chair, starting hard at Dick.  “Where were you last month?”

That makes Dick pause.  He blinks at Tam, like she asks him to solve string theory.  “What happened last month?”

Tam gives Dick a cold look that has been known to turn lesser men into ice.  “Jee, I don’t know, Dick. What _did_ happen last month?”

“Jesus, Tam,” Dick tries, but Tam is done.

“No.  No, Dick.  You do not get to waltz in after **years** of not being around and pull the: _I’m a good brother card_.  Or did you forget?  I handle all of Tim’s calls in the office?” Tam gestures at the phone.  “Literally no one talks to Tim here without me knowing about it. Wanna know how often you call him?  Spoilers, Jason, you know the one who tried to **_kill_ ** Tim, calls more than you do.”

All the blood and anger drain from Dick.  

“That’s not his only—there are other ways to get in contact with him.”

“Sure,” Tam agrees, turning back to her work.  “But, how often do you use them?”

*     *      *

Dick lands face first on his bed.  Hours later, Tim’s words are still swirling around his brain.  “ _No, just Drake…I was just a substitute to make sure Bruce didn’t go off the deep end…I’m not your brother Dick…_ ”  

Dick groans into his pillow.  How’d it gotten this bad? How’d Dick not seen any of the signs?  Dick had been the goddamn Batman.

How’d he missed something two inches from his face?

Jason and Dick’s last conversation of _when_ he’d seen _Baby Bird_ had bounce around Dick’s brain until, yesterday, when he’d finally broken down.  Using his connections at WE, Dick was ecstatic to learn Tim was going to be in the office the next day, his day off.  He figured that he and Tim could play hooky, just like when Tim had been Robin and Dick had pulled Tim out of school after a particularly rough weekend for the Titans.

Clearly, Dick had been wrong.

Dick feels a hand starting to stroke his hair.  “Hey, honey. What’s wrong?”

The guilt intensifies at the concern in Babs' voice.  “I fucked up, Babs. I really, really fucked up.”

Dick hears Barbara’s wheelchair squeak when she leans back.  “What did you do, Dick? I swear to God, if you and Damian got more puppies—”

Dick gives a weak laugh.  “No, no puppies. Nothing quite that fun.  I—I fucked up with Tim.”

Babs looks perplex.  “What are you talking about?  You haven’t done anything—”

“Exactly.”  Dick hops up, pacing around his room.  “I haven’t done anything and now—and now he saying he’s not—he’s not a Wayne anymore.”

Barbara snorts.  “Since when do you get to pick if you’re a Wayne or not?”

“You don’t get it, Babs, he legally dropped the last name.  Ages ago, apparently. And I didn’t have a fucking clue that anything was happening.”  Dick threw himself back onto the bed. “He said he wasn’t my brother. Said I never was.”  His voice is small and pathetic.

Sighing, Barbara carefully climbs out of her wheelchair and onto the bed next to Dick, snuggling up next to him.  

“Dick, you’re his brother.  You became his brother that day at the circus, and you've been his big brother ever since.  You’re also human. You make mistakes, and you fuck up. I’ve never seen you back down from a challenge.  Look at what you did with Damian and Jason. Look at how close you guys are now.” She kisses Dick’s forehead.  “So there’s been a bump in the road with you and Tim. So what? You’ll get him back.”

Dick puts his arm around Barbara and kisses the top of her head.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re right.”

*     *     *  

An hour later, Barbara and Dick head down to the cave.  Dick’s surprised but not displeased to find that the rest of the Bats were all down there.

Jason is at his workbench, cleaning one of his many guns.  Damian’s on the mats, practicing the newest move Dick had taught him yesterday, and Bruce was on the Batcomputer, typing away.  Dick’s eyes linger on Bruce’s back before approaching Jason.

Jason glances up.  “Big Bird.”

Dick didn’t flinch at the name.  Normally, Jason calling him Big Bird starts long prank war which always ends the same way: by Alfred’s raised eyebrow. This time though, Dick’s on a mission.

“You knew, didn’t you?”

“Knew what?”  Jason doesn’t look up from reassembling his 22.  

“You knew about Tim.  You knew that he—that _we_ left him behind.”  Dick's tone is hollow.

Jason stops what he’s doing to squint at Dick.  “I had a few guesses.” Jason goes back to what he’s doing.  “What brings this up now, Big Wing?”

Dick notes the use of his rarely used old nickname.  It gives him a warm sensation in his gut to hear it after all this time.  “I went to see Tim this afternoon.”

Jason freezes for a millisecond before continuing on.

Dick’s well aware of the silence emanating from the Batcomputer and Damian has been stretching his right leg for far too long.

Jason hums.  “How’d that go?”

Dick has to fight the urge to slug his brother.  Or cry, he wasn’t sure.

“It went about as well as you expected I’m guessing.”

“Dick,” Barbara warns, putting a hand on his elbow.

Finally, Jason put his gun down, leaning back in his chair, and laces his finger behind his head.  “I think a lot of things in a day Dickykins,” they both ignore the snort that comes from Damian. “That doesn’t mean I’m thinking ‘bout you and Baby Bird.”

Dick’s fingers curl.  “Bullshit, Jason. You've been hinting at this for weeks now.”

“Welp,” Jason says, popping his ‘p’,  “if I’ve been hinting at it for that long, why are you just now figuring it out?”  

This time, Dick couldn’t help the fist that goes soaring towards Jay’s nose.  Barbara shrieks and Damian tuts. Luckily, Bruce is up and had pulls Jason’s chair backwards so Dick’s fist sails through empty air.

“Enough,” the voice coming out of Bruce’s is mostly Batman.  “Dick, what’s going on?”

Dick exhales loudly through his nose.  “Tim says he’s not part of the family anymore.  Apparently, he even dropped the last name ‘Wayne’.”

Bruce’s eyebrows shoot up before his face smooth over again while Jason’s mouth hung open.  

“I did not know that.”

“When did this happen?” Dick sees Batman kicking into high gear behind Bruce’s eyes.  

Gathering the evidence so he could come to a logical conclusion.

“Dunno.  Said he did it a couple of months ago.”  

Bruce turns to look at Jason.  “What do you know?”

 _Here comes Batdad_ , Dick muses to himself _._

Jason shrugs.  “Not much. Figured somethin' was wrong when I hadn’t seen 'em around much the first few months I was back.  He pulled my nuts out of the fire a few time and talked me off da ledge once er twice, so I started ta keep track of him.  Noticed he was spendin' more and more time in San Fran. Dat’s about it.”

A tut comes from the mats.  

Four sets of eyes whip around to stare at Damian.

“Something to say, Little D?”  Dick is cautious.

Odds are _not_ in Dick’s favor that whatever it is that Damian has to say, it will be helpful.

Damian and Tim had never gotten along... _well_.

“Tt.  You all are acting like this is _new_ information.  It’s been happening for years.  Why are you all so shocked about it _now_ ,” Damian sneers.

Dick feels his heart drop before a sickening feeling wells in his gut.  Bruce and Barbara go unnaturally still. Bat still. Jason is staring at Damian like Damian’s a puzzle Jason’s trying to put together while blindfolded.  Damian—not uses to all of the Bat attention focus on him (unless he was in trouble)—squirms slightly.

“What do you mean, Little D?”    

What has Damian noticed that Dick hadn’t?

Damian surveys Dick, frowning at what he sees. “Tt.  It started when you won the cowl, Grayson, and you gave me my rightful place at Batman’s side.”

Dick flinches at the memory.  That had been more than three years ago.  The fight had been bitter between him and Jason only ending when Dick had beaten Jason and taking the Batman mantle.  At the time, he had been so overwhelmed with everything that being Batman entailed. He hadn’t had time to explain his decision then.  Why he’d chosen Damian, who Dick could see on the ledge.

And Tim…Tim was always, _always_ , okay.  Dick loved his younger brother, loved working with him, but he saw Tim was rapidly growing out of the Robin suit.  Dick had known that if he had tried to boss Tim around, it would have wrecked their relationship. Plus, Dick saw Tim as an equal; not a sidekick.

Jason’s glare at Dick could slice glass.  “Ya told me he gave up the Robin mantle, **on his own**.”

Dick put his head in his hands.  He doesn’t have time to explain this all to Jason.   

“It was time, Jay, okay? He needed to grow up.”

“Who the fucking hell are you ta make dat choice for Tim?  You had no right ta force him out.”

Dick refuses to let his voice crack.  “He needed to grow up, Jay.”

Jason lets out a short, cold bark of laughter.

It makes Dick’s skin crawl.  

“Ya don’t get it, do ya, Dicky?  Ya  _chose_ ta give Robin up; ya weren't forced to.  How’d you feel if someone had taken it before you were ready?  Fuck, you were pissy at Bruce for months after he gave me the title and _you_ quit.”

Dick winces.  

Giving up Robin had been one of the hardest decisions in his life.  He wasn’t sure how he'd feel if Bruce had taken it and given it to Jason without even talking to him about it first.

But—

“It was the right call,” Dick suborning repeats.

“How the shit can ya—” Jason starts before Bruce cuts him off.

“Boys."

Jason glares at Dick for another minute before mutter, “we ain’t done with dis yet, Grayson.”

Which—great, just, **_great_** _._  

“Tt.  It didn’t help, Grayson, that you wanted to send him to Arkham either.”  The sinking feeling in Dick’s gut increases.

Did Dick let Tim fall through the cracks?  

Thinking back through the last three years, Dick realizes he _hasn’t_ had a conversation with Tim that didn’t involve masks.  

Not since Tim had told him that he thought that Bruce was alive.  

Dick hadn’t believed him.  

Dick couldn’t believe him.  

Dick thought that all of the death that had surrounded Tim (Bruce’s, Conner’s, Stephanie's, Jack’s) had made Tim crack.  So Dick _suggested_ Tim go to Arkham.  The look of devastation on Tim’s face still haunts Dick.  

Especially since Tim had found Bruce alive.  

Whenever they talk now, it’s always been about the work.  

_What could Tim do for Dick?_

_Did Dick need data?_

_Or did he need help with a fight?_

When the fuck did that start?  

Why did it take Dick so fucking long to realize that it had gotten this bad?

Dick felt a warm hand rubbing circles on his back.  He looks around and gave a half-smile to Barbara. She winks back.

“So, he gave up the cowl, I told him he was crazy, then what?  What happened then?” Dick falters.

Does he actually want to know?

“Tt.  You really are blind sometimes, Grayson.  I honestly do not _know_ nor particularly care.  To my knowledge,” Damian began to tick things off like one would off a grocery list, “Drake moved out, got emancipated, became CEO, Grandfather kicked him out of a window,” Dick rubs his temple, trying to block the memory of seeing Tim’s crumpled form free falling, “he found Father, then later rejoined the Titans.  That’s not really what you want to know though, is it?”

No, it isn’t really what Dick wants to know.  He wants to know why Tim thinks he isn’t Dick’s brother anymore.  

That isn’t a question for Damian though.  That was a question that he was going to be pondering late into the night, perhaps with a bottle of scotch.  

Damian looks at Dick with a single raised eyebrow.  

It was incredible, sometimes, just how much the fourteen-year-old looked like Bruce.  

“Spit it out, Grayson.”

Dick sighs.  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Damian rolls his eyes, like the teenager he is.  “Tt. Really, Grayson? It might have escaped your notice, but League is not a family.  The weak do not survive there. The Bats are my first relatively healthy, normal family.”  Jason snorts.  Everyone ignores him. “For all I knew, it was wholly expected for Drake to be pushed out of the way to make room for me.  It happens in nature. Why not here? None of you seemed to notice or care what Drake was doing. You did not object when he moved out or when he went looking for Father alone.  When he came back, none of you reached out to him. 

“Not a word was said about him getting emancipated or when he became CEO.  I tried to kill him several times as did Todd. Yet, here we stand while Drake does not.  You and Father sought us out, and fight for us whenever we strayed off of the path. Yet neither of you did when Drake did.  

“Not you or Todd or Father went looking for him after he disappeared for those six months after I… _teased_ him about losing Robin and his father’s death.”  

Bruce shifts uncomfortably.

It had happened shortly after Tim rescued Bruce from the time stream.  Dick was still wearing the Batman cowl. Red had stopped by the Batcave running a diagnostic on the Batcomputer for them.  Batman had sent Robin home early to do some homework. 

_“I do not need to do a report on bugs.  I do not see how this will further my education.”_

_“It’s your homework, R. Maybe you should ask Red for help?  He’s always been the best at school.”_

_"Tt."_   

The tires on the Batmobile hadn’t entered the cave, but Dick could tell something was off.  When Dick finally got into the cave, he saw Tim and Damian fighting on the mats.

Not sparing.  

Fighting.  

Dick’s two little brothers were trying to kill each other.

 **Again**.

After he separated them, Dick had laid into Tim pretty hard.

_The anguish on Tim’s face was there, just hidden.  Dick didn’t think much of it at the time._

_“But Dick—”_

_“No, it doesn’t matter, he’s your little brother.” Dick ignored the scoffing noises coming from Damian who was getting check out by Alfred, “it doesn’t matter what he says or does.  He’s your little brother. You’re the older one. You know better. Or at least, you should.”_

_Tim opened his mouth to say something before Damian’s squeal of pain distracted Dick.  Dick turned his back on Tim to check on the injured Damian. Damian’s hint of a smug, satisfied smile was the only thing that Dick saw.  He turned around again to check on Tim, but Tim had disappeared._

It was a month later, when Little D was riding the sleep-dep train he confessed to Alfred what happened.  

_“Master Dick?”  Dick looked up to the Butler, smiling._

_“Hey, Alfie.  What’s up?”_

_“I was wondering if you’ve heard from Master Tim recently?”_

_Dick felt his face darken.  “Not since his fight with Damian.  Why?”_

_Alfred hummed like he already knew that was what the answer was going to be.  “Last month, when Masters Tim and Damian got into their scuffle,” Alfred always had a way to undersell things, Dick thought, “Master Damian had been asking after Master Tim’s late father.”_

Dick felt his blood go cold at the memory.  

_Damian wouldn’t…. Before Dick knew what was happening, he had hopped to his feet and run down the stairs to interrogate a very sleep deprived Robin.  Apparently, Damian pushed Tim into the fight after being annoyed he'd been sent home early from patrol. Dick called Tim._

_“I’m so sorry Tim, I didn’t know.”_

_Dick squeeze his phone, staring (glaring) down at the Batman domino._

_“Water under the bridge, Dick.  I gotta get back to work, though.  See you around.”_

_The phone clicked before Dick could answer._

“We do not answer Drake’s distress calls nor did you or Father object when Drake stopped filing reports on the Batcomputer.  When we know he’s in town for business, vigilant, WE, or otherwise, we don’t invite him for dinner. We don’t visit him in San Francisco.  We do not seek him out, and he stopped seeking us.

“You are a detective, Grayson.  I thought you would have detected something if it were amiss.  So, _why_ did I not say anything?”  Damian’s green eyes meet Dick’s head on.  “I thought it was normal.”

Dick’s ears are ringing after Damian’s speech.  It’s clear Damian has been putting some thought into this.  Dick wonders, for a moment, how many sleepless nights Damian has experienced, waiting to be kicked out too.  Dick pushes that thought to the side for the moment. He can only worry about one brother at a time, and right now, it was Tim’s turn.  Tim, as Damian so painfully pointed out, has some excellent reasons as to why he doesn’t consider himself a Bat anymore.

Jason bends down, so he’s eye level with Damian.  In a soft tone, Jason says,  “You and me, we’re gonna work on teachin’ ya how families work.  You got me?”

Damian tuts.

*      *      *

Bruce frowns.

It has been over eight months since Tim had bothered upload a report to the Batcomputer.

Calling them barebones would be a kindness.  

Tim hadn’t put in any information that was not required.  He didn’t attach any images of the crime scenes. The data was there, however, it wasn’t up to what Bruce expected from Tim’s normal standards.  

Bruce sighs.  Sending Red Hood and Robin out on patrol might have been a mistake.  The pair had a habit of getting into trouble, but Hood especially had been too keyed up to stay in for the night.

Oracle returned to the Clock Tower to look into the last few communication Tim had sent out to the Bats for Bruce.  

Dick is impatiently hovering, waiting to talk to Bruce since the others had left.  Bruce’s trying to delay it for as long as possible. He’s sure that Dick’s going to come up with some harebrained scheme which will require Bruce to bail him out.  

And Bruce is really not in the mood to deal with six disgruntled A.R.G.U.S. and a bathtub full of Swiss chocolate.  

Again.

Unfortunately for Bruce, Dick has enough.

“We need to do something about Tim.”

Bruce doesn’t look up from the Batcomputer.  “What about Tim?”

Dick makes an irritated noise. “You know what, Bruce.  He’s been off our radar for what, a year? Two?”

Bruce leans back in his chair. “What do you propose doing? Kidnapping and locking him up? Forcing him to spend time with us? _Hugging_ him into submission?”

“I don’t know B, but we need to do something!”  Dick was practically shouting at this point. Bruce turns his chair around to face Dick.  

“Why don’t I talk to him? See if he’ll come over for dinner?” Bruce suggests, trying to pacify Dick.

“I don’t think that’ll work this time, B.”  Dick before muttering. “I’m not sure anything is going to work.”  

It isn’t normal for Bruce to see his oldest son lost.  Dick’s always the one with a smile or a quick joke. He always knows the right thing to do.  Seeing him this hopeless disturbs Bruce more than he was comfortable with.

Bruce puts his best ‘dad’ face on. “Dick,” Dick doesn’t twitch.  “Tim knows you; he knows that you wouldn’t do anything to hurt him on purpose.  He’s just…a little lost right now. We’ll get him back. Don’t worry; you’ll be annoying your little brother in no time.  Honestly,” Bruce turns back to the computer, “I think you’re making mountains out of molehills.”

“Mountains out of— B, you weren’t there!  He wouldn’t look at me!”

“He’s eighteen," Bruce counters. "He's trying to find his way in the world.  Don’t you remember what you were like at that age? At least he’s not killing people like Jason.”

"Is that really the standard we're going with?"

"For now, yes."

"Bruce-"

"We'll monitor Tim closely, but unless he does something that warrants our intervention, we should leave well enough alone.  Don't worry Dick, he'll come back to us, just like all of you do."

“Yeah, okay.”  Bruce can hear in Dick’s voice this was _not_ the outcome Dick had been hoping for.  “I’m going to go help O with research. See you, B.”

Bruce sighs as he watches Dick’s shoulders get lower and lower as he drags himself to the locker room. Bruce thinks he heard a faint dry sob before the door slams shut.  

He quickly dismisses this.

All of his sons, at some point through the years, drifted away from the family.  From him. Hell, Jason had _died_ , but he’s back now.  Even if Tim dropped the Wayne name (which, frankly, Bruce isn’t even sure of…he could easily see Tim _saying_ this to get a rise out Dick…Batman has some poking around at City Hall before he believes _that_ one), it didn’t matter.  

Whether or not Tim considered himself a Bat (or part of the family), he is.  

At least, that’s what Bruce tells himself.

The Batcomputer chirps, calling Bruce’s attention to go back to it.  Typing a few commands into the computer, Bruce swears.

The Riddler has escaped from Arkham.  

Again.

Great.  

N is going to be off his game over this **Tim** issue, which means the rest of the team would have to pick up the slack.  He sends the file over to O so she can get the Birds started on it.

“Tea, sir?”  Alfred appears behind Bruce carrying a tray of tea and cookies.

“Thanks, Alfred.”  Bruce took the cup and blew on it.  

“I daresay, Master Dick seems rather upset tonight.”  

 _Hint, hint,_ Bruce thinks idly to himself.

“Dick had a rough day.  He found out some things that upset him.” Bruce stops, unsure of himself. When Alfred raises an eyebrow, Bruce continues, “Tim has—apparently—disowned himself.  Dick is blaming himself because he chose Damian to be Robin.”

“Hmm, that is rather upsetting, sir.”  Alfred puts the tray down next to Bruce.  

Bruce knew that all of the boys had a spot in both his and Alfred’s hearts.  Tim, however, held special meaning for the older man. Tim helped Batman (Bruce) after Jason’s death. That, if nothing else, had secured a place in Alfred’s heart for Tim.  

“If I might be so bold, sir, perhaps there is something else that’s is upsetting Master Tim.”  Bruce doesn't have to look to know he's getting one of Alfred’s all-knowing looks.  The one that _always_ makes Bruce squirm a little on the inside, like when he was twelve and stole the last Christmas cookie.  “Something dealing with rooftops, boomerangs, and a case of mistaken identity perhaps, Sir?"

Alfred knows everything.

*     *     *

It had been a long day. Even after Tim got Dick out of his office (which he still isn’t sure how Tam did it), he couldn’t focus for the better part of the day.  

Miraculously, Tim managed to get through all of the paperwork.  Tim suspects Tam took pity on him and did some of it while he was at the board meeting.

When Tim finally gets home, all he wants is to crawl under the covers in his bed and not emerge for several weeks.  

However, Tim will settle for a full eight hours of uninterrupted of sleep.  

Or two.  

Whatever, no big diff.   

Punching in the code for his front door is the best part of his day.  Throwing his briefcase onto the coffee table before sinking onto the couch is the second.  

Tim closes his eye to enjoy the peace, wondering when his uninvited guest would break the silence.

Odd.  He didn’t know they knew where he stayed in Gotham.

Except for Jason.

Pity.  Tim had been looking forward to getting some sleep tonight.

Ah well, there’s always tomorrow.

Maybe he should order some dinner.

The deli around the corner makes a wonderful green salad.

He could go for a green salad.

It might be too late to order food though.

What time was it again?

His guest finally cleared his throat.

“You know, it’s illegal to enter a house without permission?”  

“This is an apartment,” the voice growls back.

Tim resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose.  “Same thing.”

It isn’t like he hadn’t been expecting another visit from the Batfamily today.  

He had hoped though.

“Can this wait until the morning?  I’ve had one hell of a day.”

“I have a favor to ask you.”

Tim sighs, because _of course_ you do.  “Fine. How can I help you, Batman?”

Tim does not look at his former adoptive father.  

Former partner.

Former friend.

He does not want to see the cowl or face or anything having to do with Batman tonight.  He just wanted a salad before going to bed.

Petty?  

Sure…but whatever.  Crappy days lead to pettiness.

Batman shifts uncomfortably. Whatever Batman wants, he clearly isn’t comfortable asking for it.  “Come to dinner. At the manner.”

It isn’t a question.  

It’s an order.  

And,  _sure_ , there was a time period where Tim would have jumped at the invitation.

Jumped to follow that order.

Unfortunately for Batman, those days are long gone.

“Sorry, B, I’m busy.”

“Make time.”

_What, no please?_

“Can’t.”

“I didn’t even say when.”

“Doesn’t matter.  I’m heading out of town in,” Tim shoot a look at his clock before letting his head flop back down, “like six hours?  And I’d like to get some sleep before then.”

 _Hint, hint._  

“Breakfast then.  I’ll reschedule your flight.”  Batman’s lips thin.

If Tim didn’t know any better, he would have thought Batman’s _begging_.  

Tim knows that he’s dancing on a thin line.  There was only so much that Batman’s going to allow him to push before Batman **would** push back.  

Tim couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Can’t, it’s a breakfast meeting that I can’t miss.  Plus, I’ve got cases that I’ve got to get back to; another time.” He massages his eyes.

He isn’t going to get any sleep tonight, is he?

_Goddamnit, the Titans won’t like that.  I’ll be on the bench for a month. Motherfucker, I just got off the damn bench._

“Tim,” it isn’t the use of his first name that caught Tim’s attention.  It was the slight crack in Batman’s voice, well, Tim was just going to ignore that, “Please.  Please come to breakfast. Dick’s worried about you.”

Tim suppresses a snort. _Sure, Dick’s worried about me.  And you’ve said please. Twice. Wonder if I’m dying.  Knowing my luck, I probably am.  Fabulous.  I wonder if that would get me out of Paperwork Hell…probably not.  Damn._

“Look, Batman, it’s been a long day.  If you don’t need anything,” Tim pauses for a second.  Batman does not look pleased Tim’s brushing him off.  “I really need to get some sleep before—”

“You dropped the Wayne from your name.”

Okay, so no sleep for tonight.

Splendid.  

“Yes.”

“When?”

“A few months ago.”

“Why?”

The number of reasons why Tim dropped Wayne flew through his brain.  

_Because you didn’t want me. Because I’m the replacement. Because I almost died trying to save you and I didn’t even get a thank you or a good job sport.  Because after the hundredth time Damian said I wasn’t part of the family and nobody disagreed I got the message. Because when I fucked up and almost k—_

Tim shuts that thought down hard. Batman being here does **not** mean he’s going to get bogged down in extra guilt.

Instead, he settles on the easiest answer.  

“Because I’m not a Wayne—or a Bat. I’ve been on my own since my Dad died. I stopped expecting any help from you or your family.  Don’t worry. I’ll still be your good little soldier when I’m needed. I’ll still run WE until you, Dick, or Damian decides you want it back.  The paperwork is all set up; all you have to do is sign on the dotted line. Then you’ll get the CEO title and all your shares back. Once the Wayne’s take it back, I’ll be out of your hair. Permanently.”  Tim stands up. Batman’s lips are almost invisible with how closely they are pinched together. “Lock up when you're done planting your bugs.”

Tim strolls by Batman’s unmoving body to his bedroom locking the door choosing to ignore the brooding Bat standing in his living room.  He collapses onto his bed. It takes him a full minute to realize his body is trembling.

It has been a while since anyone—outside of the Titans and Tam (and Ra’s, _technically_ , but that was a whole can of worms that he doesn’t want to get into tonight)—had even faked concern for Tim.  Now, he’s getting it from not one but two of his former mentors in one day.

It had been hard, harder than Tim would have ever liked to admit, to walk away from the Bats.  Now he’s finally broken free of the Bats, the Bats decided to try and reel him back in.

_What the actual fuck?  It isn’t good enough that I’m their fucking tech support?  Now, what?  Am I going to have to deal with Bats twenty-four seven or some shit like that?_

_Fuck.  That._

Tim groans before grabbing his laptop.  Well, if there isn't any way he’s going to get sleep tonight ( _t_ _hanks, Batman_ ), he might as well do **something** useful.  

Plus, he needs to buy a plane ticket—or **ten** —for his invented breakfast meeting.  

Tam’s going to kill him for leaving so soon.  

He's going to have to get her a fruit basket.

Tam hates it when Tim does that.

Chocolate then?

Or would a bonus be better?

Tim hears the soft thud of a Bat existing through the fire escape.  A sigh of relief escapes his lungs when he clicks the order confirmation.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *nervous awkward wave* 
> 
> Hi. 
> 
> Congrats on making it through! This was one of the hardest things I've ever written so I can only imagine how difficult it was to read. It was also troublesome to edit which, again, thank you Yumixusagi for doing such a wonderful job with it.
> 
> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> [Click here](https://reallyautomaticvoid.tumblr.com) for my tumblr.


	6. You Know What They Say About Assumptions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selina talks about brunch. Gar and Dick catch up. And then the Titans make a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank everyone who wrote me such sweet notes on the last chapter. It made me feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside. I'm glad you all enjoyed it :D.
> 
> This chapter starts off a bit heavy but nothing like the last chapter. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Bruce glares at the Batcomputer.A week flew by since Batman and Tim had their conversation.Though Bruice tried to… _rearrange_ Tim’s out town Breakfast meeting, and, failing that, tried to cancel Tim’s plane ticket but found out that Tim had bought three…going to three different places so Bruce isn’t even sure what where Tim went. 

So he’d made a few calls to find out if anyone at WE knew where Tim had gone.Bruce had been met by an irritated Tam who had informed him that, as far as she knew, Tim didn’t have any out of town breakfast meeting. **And what did Bruce mean Tim wasn’t in Gotham anymore?**

Bruce shrank back from Tam’s anger before remembering that he’s Batman.

So, after an intense conversation with Tam, who, somehow, got more answers out of him then Bruce got out of her which he did not like, but _did_ respect, Bruce found himself going over all the recent data the Bats had on Tim which wasn’t much. 

A few blurry photos of Red Robin with the Titans and _who is Tim Wayne dating now_ tabloids articles is all he and O could find.

Bruce is using his best Batman glare on his unhelpful computer when he feels a pair of hands rubbing on his shoulders. 

“You know, if you keep staring at the screen like that, your face might freeze that way.” Bruce’s grimace deepens.“Yeah, that’s better.”Selina laughs.“What’s wrong?”

“Tim.”

Selina straightens.“What?Is he okay?Oh shit, he’s in the hospital again, isn’t he?Damn it, I told him to call me the next time that happens.I can—” Bruce interrupts her.

“He’s fine.Well, physically, as far as I can tell.”Bruce scowls at his computer.“I just can’t tell a whole lot right now.”

“Well, you are looking at Gotham’s Most Eligible Bachelors Under Twenty-Five.”Selina clicks her tongue.“Dick will be so disappointed to know that he didn’t make the cut.”

“He’s over twenty-five.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”Bruce snorts because, point.Selina kisses Bruce’s temple.“There’s a laugh.So tell me, what brought on this sudden bought of worry?Tim seemed fine the last time I saw him.Maybe a little tired.”

Bruce stills.“When was that?”

Selina hums.“A week ago?Maybe two?We had brunch.”

“You had _brunch_?”Bruce’s mind refuses to accept this new piece of information. 

How had Selina seen Tim so recently when Bruce had not?

“Yes.Brunch.We get brunch every time he’s in town.Or, at least we try to get it.”Bruce finally turns around to face her.Selina gives him an odd look.“Yes?”

“Why didn’t I know about this?”Bruce struggles to keep his tone neutral.

Selina’s eyebrows shoot up.“Oh, I didn’t realize I needed to tell you every time I had a meal with one of your kids.Heads up, I’m having lunch with Dick next week, and I’m getting coffee with Damian later today.”

Bruce flinches at her tone.“That’s not what I meant.”

“Okay.What did you mean?”

“I haven’t talk Tim in or out of the uniform for months before last week.”

“I know.”

Bruce’s eyebrow furrow.“How do you know that?” 

“Whenever you talk to one of your kids, you always brag about them.You tell me what they’ve been doing and how they’ve been.What member of the Rogue’s Gallery they’re taking on this week.”Selina shrugs.

“Okay.”Bruce nudges her when she stops talking.

Selina gives Bruce a piercing look.“You’ve stopped talking about what Tim’s doing.You didn’t mention him at all when I knew he was in town.”

“Why didn’t you say anything to me?”

Selina gave Bruce a _what?Am I new here?_ look.“I figured you guys had a fight or something.I thought you’d tell me about it when you were ready.”She pauses while she searches Bruce’s face.Bruce isn’t sure she found what she was looking for when she continues,“I thought that you were still… _disappointed_ in Tim.”

Bruce turns away from Selina, shame burning in his gut.“We’ve gotten past that.”

“Really?”Selina's voice is dripping in disbelief.“Because you haven’t talked about Tim since then.”

Bruce grits his teeth, not saying anything. 

* * *

Dick and Barbara had been up for days looking through computer logs.It had been nine, almost ten, months since Red Robin had sent out a distress call to any of the Bats.Almost as long since he filed any report on the Batcomputer. 

Damian was right; Tim had fallen off of Dick’s radar, and Dick hadn’t noticed.

Babs had gone home hours ago to get some sleep.Dick, however, had yet to be able to get any.

Dick sighs as he ruffles his hair.He glances at his cellphone. 

_It’s not going to be that bad. It’s not like you’re asking them to give you a liver or something_. 

Somehow, Dick thought it’d be easier to get a liver.

Finally, screwing up some courage, Dick dials his phone.

“You’ve reached Titans’ Tower.If you’re calling to make a noise complaint, please press one now.If you’re calling to make a complaint about the smell, please press two now.If you’re calling to report the giant sea monster that’s coming out of the ocean, please call again later.”

Dick snorts. “Hilarious, Gar.”

“I try.”Gar chuckles.

“How are you?”

“Well, other than I’m on monitoring duty, _again_ , which **sucks** , I can’t complain.You?” Dick could just see Gar laying on the couch watching TV while waiting for _something_ exciting to happen while he stuck on monitoring duty.

“Been better. How’s Rae?”

“Magical.” Dick hears the smile in Gar’s voice.“She’s meditating right now.Did you want to talk to her?I could see if she can talk.”

“No, no. That’s okay.I was—I was just hoping you could do me a favor.”

“Dick, I don’t care if it’s in vogue again, I’m not getting a mullet.”

“It was a phase.Are you ever going to let me live that down?” Dick laughs. 

“Probably not, no.Have you seen the picture?”

“No, I destroyed all of them.Although, Babs might still have some.Last thing I need is for Damian, or worse, _Jason_ , to find them.God, they’d probably end up taking out a billboard.”

Gar howls with laughter. “Tell them I’ll chip in for that. That’d be hysterical. _Gotham most eligible Bachelor_.Man, I can just see your face!”

“Don’t you dare give them that idea.”

“Do you think I’d do a thing like that?” Dick could hear the glee drip in Gar’s voice. 

“Yes!”

“Fine, fine.I won’t give them any ideas.Chillax man.” Dick makes a mental note to check there weren’t any photos floating around the manner. 

Just to be sure.

“So, why’d you call, Dick.” Gar asks as he munching on something crunchy.

“I need a favor, Gar,” Dick repeats.

“Yup, you said that already, Gar crunches.

“And I want you to be honest with me.”

“Sure man.Whatever you need.”

“Can you—How’s Tim doing?” Dick winces at the awkwardness in his own voice.

The other end of the line goes dead.

Dick takes he’s phone away from his ear to check the call hadn’t dropped.

It hadn’t.

“Why?”Gar’s voice has a hard edge to it that Dick isn’t used to hearing. 

Not even on Slade after the whole Terra thing.

Gar, the Titan who’s first to make a joke or pithy comment, is pissed.

“What-?”

“Why the sudden concern?” The hard edge of Gar’s voice increases while the volume hush. 

Dick shrinks back from the sound.

“It has recently come to my attention that I may have…I may have _slipped_ up a bit in the brotherly department.”

Gar gives a humorless laugh. “ _Slipped up a bit,_ ” he repeats. “Jesus, Dick, I never pegged you as stupid before.”

“Gar, I know—”

“No, you don’t know.You don’t know the half of it.Hell, you probably don’t even know an eighth of it.”

Dick rubbed his temples. “So **tell** me.” 

It is just shy of begging, but Dick couldn’t bring himself to care.Dick was ready to do just about anything if it meant getting his brother back.

“No,” Dick winces at the tone.“Look, Dick, we’ll always be friends, and I’ll always value your friendship but you—you and the rest of the Bats—made this mess.Now,” Gar give another grim laugh, “it’s up to you and the rest of the Bats to clean it up.”

Dick’s head fall back onto his pillow.He hadn’t expected to get this much resistance (or anger) from Gar.It was one of the reasons why Dick had gone to him.Raven…well, he’s sorta surprised (and really, _really_ relieved) that he isn’t in a Hellish dimension fighting off demons in his underwear. 

Again. 

Dick shutters at the memory.It’s never fun when Raven’s pissed at you.

“I just—how about a jumping off point?” Dick was begging at this point, and both Dick and Gar knew that. “Or calling if he’s in real trouble?”

“No, **_Dick_** _,_ I’m not spying on my teammate for you.” Gar’s icy tone make a shiver go down Dick’s spine.“Besides, we did that.” 

Dick raises his head. “What?”

“After an attack from N.O.W.H.E.R.E., Rave and I called you.Completely disregard Tim’s wishes, **by the way**.He made it clear when he came back with the new suit that he didn’t want anything to do with you guys.Said you guys didn’t care about him anymore.Said that you guys had a new Robin and didn’t care about Red Robin anymore.”

Dick’s blood ran cold.

How could he think that?How could he believe they didn’t care about Red Robin? 

Dick, of course, knew the answers to these questions: _Because you shoved him out of the way to make room for someone else to take his spot.Because you took his cowl and you didn’t even talk to him about it, you just assumed it would be okay._

Welp, you know what they say about assumptions.

Gar, oblivious to Dick’s musings, keeps right on going. “Me and Rave didn’t believe him; we _knew_ you.We _knew_ you’d cared. We’d seen it.Hell, we’d watched you take Batman down a peg or two when he was getting too hard on Tim.So, we called you after the attack.We weren’t sure Tim was going to make it.” Gar clears his throat, taking a minute to regroup himself.“It rang twice before going to voicemail. **You sent us to fucking voicemail**.And then, you never bothered called us back.Next time I saw you at Wally’s poker game, you didn’t even mention it.”

“When was this?”Dick’s voice was hollow. 

“About two years ago.You and Babs had just gotten back together for the _millionth_ time.Rave and I decided after that not to bother you about Tim again.And you never called to check on him.None of you did.So the team— _we_ figured Tim was right about the Bats; they didn’t care anymore.”

A shot of rage ran through Dick, causing him to jump up. “He’s my little brother.Of course I care!”

“Okay then, Dick,” Gar’s voice could make it snow in hell, “how old is Tim?What did he do for his last birthday?Is he dating anyone?What college does he go to?Does he even go to school anymore?When was the last time he left the country?When was the last time he took a vacation?If you can tell me the correct answer to any of these question right now, I’ll take it all back and shut up about it.”

Dick opens his mouth to answer, while the rage simmered down into a new, familiar feeling of guilt because, _shit_ he doesn’t know.Any of it. 

Gar seems to know what Dick was feeling. “Thought not.”

“Damn it, Gar, I know I fucked up.” Dick paces. “I don’t need it to be pointed out to me.”

“I think you do. I’m not just saying this to be an ass to you.” Dick couldn’t help the snort. “I’m not. We’ve already had to pick up the pieces once.I really don’t want to have to do that again.I’m not sure we’d be _able_ to do it again.It was hard for both the team _and_ Tim.But—” Gar pauses for a moment before continuing, “but I am rooting for you.”

“Then can you help me?Please?” Dick’s begging, but he doesn’t care. “I just want my brother back.”

Gar groans. “Fine.I’m not promising anything, but I’ll bring it at the next Titan’s meeting. We’ll put it to a vote. I’ll let you know in a few days.”

Dick felt himself smile for what felt like the first time in years.“Thanks, Gar.”

“Don’t thank me yet; I haven’t done anything.”

* * *

“I thought you weren’t coming until this weekend,” Tim looks up from his bike he’s working to see Bart.

“Change of plans.” Tim puts down the wrench. “I thought you had school.” Tim picks up a towel, starting to clean up.

“Change of plans,” Bart mimics.Tim throws the towel at Bart’s head.Bart catches it in a _whoosh_ before cleaning up the entire garage. “Come on. It’s time for dinner. We’re having Chinese.”

Tim grins. “Steamed broccoli, over brown rice?”

Bart shakes his head. “You know, when you live in SF, home of some of the best food in the world, it’s practically criminal to only eat healthy food.”

Tim shrugs.“Food is food.Might as well eat healthy.”

“Dude, I’ve seen you eat a gummy worm pizza with chocolate sauce.”

“Yeah, and I was fourteen.I’ve grown up.”

“Growing up does not mean you only eat healthy food.” Bart hits the button to call the elevator.

“No, but it does mean you need to mature.”The elevator dings before the doors open and the pair enter.

“Pff, maturity is overrated.” Bart pushes the button.The elevator starts moving.

Tim laughs.“You would thinks that.”

Bart smile falterers. “Seriously, man, what are you doing back here so soon? It’s not that I’m not happy to see you or anything, but I thought you were itching to get out of here for a few days.”

Tim smile slips. “Yeah, I was but I develop a Bat infestation.Probably going to have to move to get rid of it.”

Bart moans in sympathy. “Wait, you’ll move to get rid of Bat but not the Demon’s Head?You realize that’s fucked up logic, right?” 

“Hey, Ra’s pops up once every couple of months.He does something to get my attention,” Tim starts.

“Yeah.Like kidnap you,” Bart mutters.

Tim continues, louder, ignoring Bart. “We go back and forth a few times, he calls me detective, I call him an old geezer, I thwart whatever plot he’s trying to do, then I put kiddie shows on a loop for a few days, easy-peasy.But Bats,” Tim sighs, “once one gets in, you’ll have a whole flock before long.”

“I thought birds had flocks, not Bats.”

Tim snorted. “Fine, a _colony_ of Bats, then.”

Bart nods. “Ah, yes, that makes much more sense.” He and Tim stare at each other for a few seconds before bursting out laughing.

“The crapping thing is, Tam’s already called to chew me out.” Tim absentmindedly rubs his ear. “I’m going to have to go back to Gotham soon, or she’s threatening to bring all the paperwork here.”

“Oh, please let her do that.I’d love to see Con’s face when he sees her.”

They were laughing when they finally reach the kitchen where Gar’s unpacking the food, Raven and Conner are getting dishes, while Cassie’s getting drinks. 

Tim pauses, admiring his team for a moment.They are all working in flawless unison; one person would flow in as one of the other flowed out.

Conner notices him first. “Tim!I thought you weren’t going to be here for another two days.” He grins at Tim.

“Change of plans.” Tim shrugs but smiles back.

“Yeah, apparently, he has a Bat infestation.” Bart zips to Gar’s shoulder. “Did you guys remember my Mu Shu?”

Raven holds up a box which disappears in a blink.She raises an eyebrow. “Bat infestation?”

“Yeah, apparently the Bats have decided to worry about me. Where’s my steamed broccoli?” Tim nonchalantly asks. 

Because it doesn’t matter.Tim isn’t going to get sucked back in. 

Nope. 

Not him. 

Not after all of the tries and fails that happened over the years.He isn’t going to get sucked in. 

He’s moving forward; not backwards.

Raven and Gar exchange a look.It’s their patented, _we know something but aren’t sure of how to tell anybody because it’s gonna piss people off_ look.

“Well, there was something I was going to bring up at the next team meeting,” Gar starts slowly, “but, uh, Dick called me Tim.”

The kitchen froze. 

Tim shoves the burning wave of jealousy that threatens to consume him whenever Gar or Raven _casually_ mentions how close they are with Dick. 

After years of practice, Tim could barely feel a thing. 

Or, that what he told himself.

“Oh?” Tim asks, not looking at anybody (which nobody misses) as he spoons brown rice onto his plate.

“Yeah.”Gar’s voice is cautious.“Dick wants me to keep tabs on you for him.Give him updates.About you.” Tim stops dead, mid spoonful.Bart glares at Gar, who put his hands up. “I told him no, but he kinda—he kinda _begged,_ Tim, so I told him I’d ask at the next meeting.”

Turning to blink at Gar, Tim tries to process the information he had just gotten. 

Gar take his silence as anger. “Look, dude, I can totally tell him to go to Hell.It was kind of a dick move, anyways, asking me to spy on you.Which I told him by the way.I mean, not in some many words because he is still my friend, even if he is a dick to—”

Raven puts a hand on Gar’s shoulder. “Stop talking.” She looks at Tim with a serene expression. “Why don’t we eat?”

Tim mechanically sits down, staring at a plate which is filled with cooling brown rice and broccoli. 

There’s a gentle hum of noise as everyone eats. 

What is Dick up to?

Silverware clink. 

What about Bruce?

Bart does something goofy which makes Con laugh.

Why the sudden concern?

Tim goes through the motions of eating, not tasting anything. 

Cassie, who’s sitting on the right of him, make an irritated noise.She’s been watching Tim going through the motions of eating while trying to engage him in conversation.

“Why don’t we just give them some bad intel and then maybe they’ll leave us alone.” She mutters so quietly, Tim’s sure he isn’t supposed to hear.

However, Tim does.

“Let’s do that.” He loudly announces.The table starts.Clearly, the rest of the table didn’t hear. “Let’s do what Cassie said,” all eyes turns to Cassie who squints at Tim. “Let’s give the Bats bad intel on me.”

The cogs in Tim’s mind are whirling.There are so many way they could do this.So many things they could do with this. 

Tim looks up to see the table staring at him like he’s gone nuts (minis Raven who’s unflappable). “No, really. Let’s tell them crazy things, like I went to Jamaica to find myself or Singapore to get dinner or some shit like that.Maybe if we send them on enough wild goose chases, they’ll leave me alone.” Tim grins.

Cassie shakes her head. “Oh for Goddess sakes, Tim, I was being facetious.”

“I know, but, just imagine it for a minute: _Gar what new with Tim_?” He causes the table to jump at his ability to mimic Dick so well. “ _Whelp, he’s got a secret girlfriend_ ** _and_** _a secret boyfriend that he thinks we don’t know about_.”

Bart grins like it’s Christmas. “Oh hell, I want to be there to hear Dick reaction to that. It’d be fucking hilarious.”

Raven frowns. “Tim, Dick and the rest of the Bats are intelligent. They’ll eventually figure out that we’re lying to them.” 

“So we’ll pepper in some truths too.”Tim leans back in his chair, plotting. 

“Yes, but, what do we do _when_ they figure out we’re lying to them. Batman’s a member of the league.He could make our lives **difficult** when he finds out.” Raven points out.

“We’ll worry about it then.I have a few ideas though that should circumvent any problems that we might have.” Tim smiles. “I think this could work.”

“I think it’ll be fun.” Bart leans back in his chair.

Cassie shakes her head. “I think this end in fire and destruction.” 

“Yeah, but, what a ride.Besides, with all of the jerking around that they’ve put Tim through, I think they’ve earned this.” Gar smirks. 

Cassie inclines her head.

When Tim looks around at Conner, he can tell the meta is deep in thought.Tim gives him a raised eyebrow, Conner says, “what do you think about, ‘ _sorry Dick, Tim’s not here right now.He went to Smallville to get a hug_ ’?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's ready for some shenanigans?
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> [Click here](https://reallyautomaticvoid.tumblr.com) for my tumblr!


	7. It's a Terrible Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gar and Dick talk again. Dick come up with a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! Work got crazy and then I went through a bout of writer's block (so much fun >.<).
> 
> But, hopefully, that’s all done now! And as an apology for the longer than expected wait, I made the chapter longer than originally planned. 
> 
> And now I will be on more a regular writing schedule. 
> 
> Hopefully.
> 
> Anyways, Enjoy!

With the help of the Titans, Tim spent the week constructing a list of excuses for the Bats. 

Tim’s favorites (at Con suggestion) is, _“Why, no, Dick, Tim isn’t around ‘cause Ra’s is trying to sell him a timeshare at Nanda Parbat.I think he might take it; it’s a pretty good deal.”_

Tim laughed so hard he knock over the stack of shipment logs he’d been going through.Tim didn’t want all of the Bats in a hundred-mile radius to come raining down on him (or to _know_ how close to true that is) it had gone in the _funny but_ ** _no_** pile. 

Drumming his thumbs on his desk, Tim watches BB through his monitor getting ready to call Dick to tell him the _good_ news.With most of the Titans gathered around him, Tim had hacked into the main feed so that they could see the conversation between Gar and Dick unfold.

Picking up a sock, Bart crinkles his nose.“Dude, do you **ever** do your laundry?”

Tim arches an eyebrow at him.“You were there for my last annual pilgrimage to the laundromat.”

“That’s a horrifying sentence; from start to finish.”

Before Tim could respond, Gar’s voice crackles from the speakers. “Ready?” 

Tim presses the intercom button.“Ready as we’ll ever be.”

“You sure you want to do this, Tim?”BB eyes sparkle through the computer.

Tim ignores the question. 

They’d talked about this. 

And Tim’s **fine** with it. 

“Remember, we’ll be watching.”

Gar laughs.“Shyeah, ‘cause that won’t be creepy.”

Tim nods because, _point_ , before pressing the intercom off. 

Two rings later, Tim could hear Dick’s voice. 

“Gar, how’s it hanging, bro?” 

Tim pays no attention to the stab of jealousy threatening to overtake him at Dick’s friendly greeting. 

Moving forward, remember? 

Instead, he focused on what Dick was doing.It looked like Dick had been in the middle of looking through old case files.

Gar leans back in his chair.“Not bad, man.How are you doing?”

“Fine.”Dick shuffles some papers off the desk and into a folder with a vague smile. 

Tim sucks on his teeth.

Tim knows that move. 

Tim _taught_ Dick that move.

What doesn’t Dick want BB to see?

“We’ve been working our way through some of Tim’s old files.” 

_Well, shit._

_That could be anything_.

Out of the corner of his eye, Tim sees Conner shooting him a concerned look. 

Tim puts on his best Wayne Enterprises CEO blank face. 

Conner rolls his eyes in an  _I know what shit you’re trying to pull.Knock it off asshole_ kinda way.

Tim grimaces.

Dick, however, keeps talking.

“But it’s hard.Most of the files on the Batcomputer are months old at this point.So, most of the info in it is outdated.”Dick sighs, ruffling his hair.It’s something Tim recognizes from his days of being Robin. 

Something Dick only does when he’s frustrated with a case. 

“Bab’s has been trying to trace his com unit, but she can’t find any.I don’t have to tell you how pissed off that makes her.” 

Tilting his head, Tim squints at the screen. 

There’s almost a look of… _pride_? on Dick’s face while Dick was saying that? 

That couldn’t be right. 

Babs couldn’t find the GPS on the com because Tim disconnected it over a year ago. 

Why would Dick be proud of something Barbara’s failing at? 

“But you don’t need to hear about that shit; why’d you call?”

“Well, funny story, it’s actually about Tim.”Dick’s body snaps to attention. Dick moves his chair so close to the computer’s camera, Tim couldn’t see the room anymore.

“Is he okay?”The urgency in Dick’s voice makes Tim’s stomach drop. 

_Okay, what the fuck is Dick doing?Outside of tech support, I hadn’t been important to the Bats for fucking_ **_years_ ** _.What the actual fuck?_

Tim feels a warm hand squeeze his shoulder.Glancing up, Tim sees Conner giving him the:  _we can call this off if you want_ look.Half smiling, Tim shakes his head.

“Tim’s fine,”  BB assures Dick, eyes darting up towards Tim’s room.“At least, he was the last time I saw him.No, I’m calling because the team and I had a vote.”

Dick stares at Gar blankly before comprehension dawns across his face.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“How’d that go?”Dick winces just like he _always_ does right before he doesn’t dodge and gets hit in the face.

“Well, it was close but we did agree to give you _occasional_ updates on Tim.On a trial basis, of course.” 

Dick’s face looks like it was about to split into two from his smile. 

Tim’s eyebrows narrow. 

Okay, not the reaction Tim was expecting.Sure, he wasn’t sure what kind of reaction he was expecting (disgust, disappointment) but…not that.

“You can call and somebody will give you an update but,”Gar hesitates. 

_Shit.What went wrong?_

Gar had said what the team had agreed to tell Dick. 

_Was he getting cold feet?_

_Shit._

It's a big ask, to fuck with friends like this. 

Gar had agreed to do this though (even telling Tim in private he supported this plan one hundred percent).

Still though…

“But, Dick, it was a close vote.Not all of the Team is very happy about this… _arrangement_ , man.Not all of them agree that this is the right thing to do.So, if someone doesn’t want to tell you anything, I wouldn’t push.” 

Dick stares for a long moment, calculating, before nodding.

“Okay.I’ll try not to step on any toes.”Dick slowly nodding before smiling.“So, how’s Tim?” 

Tim feels his brow furrow.The way Dick asked that question…what the fuck?It’s like Dick had been waiting years to ask it but had been too afraid. 

Tim shakes his head. 

Why would Dick care how he was doing?

Gar shrugs.“He’s fine.He and Bart went to get some comics.We didn’t want him to walk in while we were having this conversation.” 

Dick looks like there were another hundred question he wanted to ask. 

“So, is there anything new in his life I should know about?”

Gar takes a moment before answering.“Well,” he starts slowly, “we were attacked by H.I.V.E.the other week.Red Robin was capturing for a few hours before we got him back.” 

“What?”Dick jumps up like he’s about to hop a plane to San Francisco.“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Gar raises an eyebrow.“Because it was before you called.”Dick flinches.“And besides, man, Red was fine.I haven’t heard him screaming ‘cause of the nightmares in a few days now.”

If Dick looked ready to hop a plane a minute ago, it was nothing compared to now.“He’s having nightmares?I’m on my way right now to—”

“To do what?Cuddle?Dude, he’s not going to let you into the Tower, let alone his room to _cuddle_.Don’t you know how to play it cool?That’s how I got Rae, man.”

Tim glances over to Raven whose lips had become a fine line.

Dick rolls his eyes.“Dude, you followed her around like a lost puppy for _months_ before she gave you the time of day.”

“Not cool, man.You’re supposed to agree with me.”

“Even if you’re telling an out and out lie?”

“Especially then.”Both Dick and Gar laugh.Gar sobered up first.“Besides, I think he’s supposed to be back in Gotham at the end of the week.Tam’s pissed at him for skipping out on some of his meeting from his last visit.She made him promise that he’d be back sooner rather than later.” 

Shit, Tim’s **not** comfortable with the way Dick’s eye’s lit up at the mention of Tam.It’s the same way they’d light up for Tim when Tim gave Dick an idea for pranking Bruce. 

BB, however, doesn’t seem to notice.Instead, he keeps barreling on.“So, if you play your cards right, you should be able to see him in just a few days.Okay, dude?”

“Gotcha.”Dick’s eyes are still dancing. 

There’s a delightful new gnawing sensation in Tim’s gut.

Fantastic.

*     *    *

“I have an idea,”Dick announces as he enters the Batcave.Bruce doesn’t look up from the project he’s working on at his workbench.Jason doesn’t stop his before patrol warm-ups. 

Jason calls over to Bruce.“Ya better call the papers, B.Dick had an idea.Ya know how rare they are.”

Dick rolls his eyes. _Brothers_.“Yes, yes, your hilarious, Jason.No, I had an idea about getting Tim back.”

Bruce put down the piece of _something_ he’s trying to resemble and stares at Dick. 

Bruce’s stare isn’t anything compared to Batman’s stare but it’s still nothing to sneeze at.Dick knows that something had been bothering Bruce since he had talked to Selina.The Bruce’s Brood ( _patent pending_ ) is stronger than normal. 

Dick eyes Bruce for a second before continuing on.“I called Gar last week to ask him for a favor.Asked him if he could give me any info on Tim.”

Jason stops mid pushup to stare at Dick.“Bet he fuckin’ loved that.”

“No, he was partially happy with that idea,” _No,_ Dick _, we aren’t going to spy on our teammate for you_ flashes in Dick’s mind before he shoves it aside.“But he did say he’d take it to the rest of the team for a vote.That was about a week ago.Well, I just got a call from Gar.The Titans are on board.” 

Jason’s jaw drops before he hops up and grabs a water bottle.Leaning against Bruce’s workbench, he says, “ya honestly think they’re gonna fuckin’ tell you what’s goin’ on?”

“Gar said they would,” Dick insists.“And it’s a place to start.But, we’re getting off track.No, Gar said that Tim was going to be back in Gotham at the end of the week for WE stuff.So I was thinking, we need a way to get Tim to believe us when we say that we want him back, right?Well, he’s got to be here in order for us to do anything so—”

“What?Ya wanna ambush ‘em at WE?That’s a fuckin’ terrible idea.Remember what happened the last time ya did that?”

_I’m not your Brother Dick._

Dick flinches at the memory before pushing it aside.They were going to have plenty of time to… _correct_ Tim’s thoughts of whether or not he is or is not Dick’s family.

“No, that’s not what I’m thinking.If Tim Drake is at WE that means that Red Robin will be patrolling.If we can have his back when he’s patrolling, he might start to trust us again.And isn’t that the goal?”

Jason rolls his eyes.“Ya think that if we hang out with ‘em for a couple of nights that he’ll want to kiss n’ make up?You're dreaming.”

Dick counts to ten before exhale.“It’s a place to start.”

“Agreed.”Bruce’s voice finally cuts in.Both Jason and Dick whip around to stare at him.“Tim…Tim needs proof before he’ll believe.Believe in us again.”Bruce pauses before shaking his head.“The only way to get him to come back into the family is if he believes in us again but if we put too much pressure on him, he’ll run.”

“Like he did ta ya last week?”Dick elbows Jason who doesn’t notice.

Bruce grimaces.“Yes, well, Batman may have come on a little strong last week.”

“Little?”Jason smirks.

“Enough Todd.”Damian emerges from the shower toweling off his hair.“Father, Grayson, if you really want Drake back in line, which I’m still unclear as to why—”

“He’s family,” Dick’s exasperated at this point.Sometimes his family was clueless.“He’s fucking family and we fucking let him fall.We failed him.”Dick glares at Bruce.“Did you know that Tim was on life support?” 

Bruce’s stony face is answer enough.Damian’s smirk falters while Jason clenches his fists. 

“Yeah, didn’t think so.Gar and Rave apparently called me and I missed the fucking call.”Dick runs his fingers through his hair.“We need to get him back.Tim isn’t going to come back to town for us,” Dick ignores the way his stomach clenches when he says this, “but he will come back for work.Let’s use that.Right now, he’s only in town a few days a month.At most.”

“Yes.I would say work would be the only thing that Drake would come back for.” 

Damian’s sneer was firmly back in place.Dick didn’t miss that Damian’s hands were slightly shaking. _Maybe he cares a bit more then he’s been letting on._

“So we’ll use that.And when he’s here, we’ll try and get him to, I don’t know, catch a movie with us, go on patrol, get him to have a goddamn conversation with us, _something_.Then, we’ll try and ease him back into the family.”

“Tt.That’s a dreadful plan, Grayson.”

“Do you have a better one?” Dick snaps.None of the other Bats move.“Great.Then this is the plan we’re going with.”

*     *    *

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, Tim.”Cassie flips through her magazine.“Trying to trick Batman is a terrible idea.”

Tim’s due to back in Gotham later this afternoon.He had been having this argument for the last half an hour.“I know, Cass, you’ve made it clear that you don’t like what I’m doing.You don’t have to help if you don’t want to.”Tim straightens his tie.“Besides, Tam will kill me if I don’t go to Gotham today.Seriously,” he answers Cassie’s skeptical look, “I don’t think that Con could stop her.”

“Oh, I’m not crossing Tam, even for you, man,” Con claps Tim on the shoulder.“She scares the crap out of me. _And_ , she doesn’t even need Kryptonite to do it.”

Cass waves her magazine at Tim.“You know Vicki Vale says your having a secret affair with Tam again, right?” 

Conner snorts, “are they engaged again?”

“Not yet,” Cass skims the article, “apparently Bruce doesn’t approve.”

Tim sighs as he swings his duffle bag onto his shoulders.“Can’t wait to field those questions.Time to go.”

Giving Tim a critical look, Cassie finally put down her magazine.“You sound like your going to your death.”

Tim grimaces, “worse.I’m going to a city full of Bats who know I’m coming.” 

“Don’t worry, man.It’ll be fun,” Tim gives Conner a look who just shrugs. “Or it’ll be terrible, in which case, you call me and I’ll get you out of there.Win, win.”

Open mouthed, Tim stares at Con while Cassie shakes her head.“We need to work on your pep talks, Sweetie.”

A few hours later (thank you, repurposed Batplane), Tim’s punching his code to his apartment. 

After Batman visit, Tim took all the bugs that Batman had planted and sent them back with a note saying _better luck next time_. 

There hadn’t been a response.

Admittedly, the fruit basket mighta been too much. 

Of course, that didn’t mean while Tim was at the Tower that Batman, Nightwing, Red Hood or even Robin (though, probably not Robin because all of his belonging were still intact) coulda come through again and planted more.

Even though Tim’s confident his security system would have alerted him to an intruder, he still put on a little show because, well, **Bats**.

Sighing, Tim enters his apartment, dumping his briefcase and duffle onto the couch while scanning the room.

_Nothing yet._

Turning towards the hallway, Tim traces the wall with the tips of his figures, scanning all the while.There wasn’t anything in the bathroom (and _thank Gods_ , that’s one conversation he was glad not to have), his bedroom, living room, guest room, kitchen, or really, any room he searched.

Shanking his head, Tim opens the fridge. _Fuck, sometimes, I’m just as fucking paranoid as Bruce._

From the table, Tim hears the sound of his phone vibrating.Closing the fridge, Tim sees Babs’ smiling face flashing from the screen. 

Fuck. 

Leave it to Oracle to know when I’m back in Gotham.

Before he could lose his nerve, Tim presses the speakerphone button.

“Hey, Babs, what can I do for you?”

“Well,” her tone is light, teasing, “you could give me half the Drake fortune and become my personal Tech guru.” 

Tim rolls his eyes.“Is that all?”

Barbara laughs.“It is.But more realistically, you could have dinner with me tonight.”

Tim stops mid-search.“I don’t know, Babs.”

“How much food do you have in your fridge right now?And remember, I know when you’re lying to me.”

_Sure_.Tim gives the offending fridge a dark look.

“I have this new magical thing.It’s called a _credit card_.And I can buy _things_ with it.Like _food_.”

“Great,” Babs matches Tim’s sarcastic tone. “You can use this new mystical item to get me dinner too.And I’m craving a sub from that deli down the street from you.”

Tim resists the urge to slam his head against a wall. “They deliver.” 

Babs clicks her tongue.“It’s not the same, Tim.”

Tim sinks down into a chair next to the table.“Babs, I just got to Gotham.I haven't even unpacked yet.Rain check?”

“Tim, we both know you’re not going to unpack.Come on, just an hour.If I hear Jason tell me you ‘hit it with a hammer and light it on fire’ one more time, I’m going to do that to him.”

Tim pinches the bridge of his nose.All he wanted to do tonight was veg out. 

Especially since tomorrow is (probably) going to be shit. 

However, he knew losing battle when he saw one.

“Fine, give me an hour.I’ll bring food over to the Clocktower.”

“You’re the best, Tim!”With that, Barbara hung up.

Tim gets up to take a shower before going over to the Clocktower (ignoring the growing gnawing feeling in his gut). 

_It’s been there since BB called Dick, it’s not going to magically go away just because you want it to.Suck it up, Drake._

Tim shakes his head, changing into _Tim Drake_ clothes.He pulls on blue jeans, one of his favorite shirts with an empty coffee cup equals dead battery on it, a pair of converse that were practically falling apart, and an oversized hoodie which he pulls over his head. 

All and all, he felt more like himself then he had in a very long time.

Tim shoved the gnawing feeling in his gut out of his head again.All he was going to do was go, have dinner with Barbara, go on patrol then bed.A few hellish days at WE and he could escape back to the Tower. 

Smiling, Tim goes down to his garage that housed everything from _Tim Drake’s_ skateboard to _Tim Wayne’s_ shiny new Jag to _Red Robin’s_ newest (to Gotham) bike.Tim grabs the keys to one of his daytime civilian cars. 

Unlocked the Jetta, Tim slides inside.The outside might look shit but the inside was still in good shape.The car had been one of the first things that Tim had bought when he had first moved out of the Manner.At the time, Tim had wanted a car to get from point A to point B without hassle. 

And here's the winner, all these years later, still chugging along, much to Tim’s surprise.

Jiggling the key in the ignition, Tim manages to get the car to whine to life.Grinning, Tim pulls out of his garage and into traffic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Click here](https://reallyautomaticvoid.tumblr.com) for my tumblr and thanks for reading!


	8. Dinner for Two?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner is had. Jason and Damian 'bond'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who’s ready for an uncomfortable dinner party?
> 
> TW: angst

“He’s late. Tim’s never late, Babs,” Dick’s voice floats through the door. 

Leaning against the wall, Tim stares Bab’s door, chewing on his tongue. 

It doesn't really surprise him. 

Not in the grand scheme of things. 

Dick and Barbara had been dating on and off since Dick had been Robin. And he vaguely remembers Gar mentioning that they were on again.

So, it doesn’t surprise him that Dick’s here.

What does surprise Tim is the _happy couple_ are arguing? 

About him. 

“Maybe he came, heard you and then _left_ ,” Barbara snaps at Dick.

_Well, I was thinking about it._

 Dick ignores Babs. “I should go look for him.”

“No, you shouldn’t.” 

Tim closes his eyes and lightly pounds his head against the wall at Bab’s anger.

_What does she have to be mad about? Fuuuuuck, I hope I’m not about to walk into one of their fights._

Under Barbara’s anger, Tim senses something else. 

 _Worry? What’s she got to be worried about?_  

Tim pauses rapping his head against the wall when he hears Barbara sigh. “Dick, he’ll get here when he gets here. Don’t worry so much or you're going to wrinkle,” Dick snort. Tim rolls his eyes. “Why don’t you go start some coffee for Tim, hmm? That way, there’ll be coffee for when he gets here.” 

Tim can’t make out the mumbled reply but hears the sound of shuffling of feet. After a few moments of silence, Tim hears Barbara’s voice. “You coming in or what?”

_Of course she knew I was here._

Tim opens his eyes, suppressing a jump when he sees Babs staring at him from the doorway.

One of Tim’s best CEO neutral expressions slides down his face. 

Babs gives him an unimpressed look. “If you keep your face like that for too long it might freeze that way and trust me, it looks stupid so don’t do that.” 

“You didn’t say Dick was going to be here,” Tim kept his face blank. 

“No, I didn’t,” she airily agrees. “But I also didn’t say he wasn’t going to be here.”

Tim inclines his head, _Touché_. “Let’s take a look at your hacker problem then, shall we?”

“After dinner. I’m starving.”  Barbara wheels over to Tim, grabbing one of the bags of food, which numbly Tim releases before leading him into the apartment. 

_Moving forward here, Babs. Thanks for all of the help though._

Tim shakes his head. “Babs, I don’t have a lot of time—”

“Tim,” she interrupts, “You paid for it. Shut up and eat.” 

“Really though, Babs, I’ve only got like an hour before I have to go.”

“We’ll talk and eat.” The voice comes from the doorway. 

 _Motherfucker_. 

 “Coffee?” Tim feels his spine stiffen.

Tim forces his muscles to loosen into a relax fighting stance before turning to face Dick who’s holding a cup of black coffee which, admittedly, smells amazing. Tim eyes the mug, weighing the pros and cons. 

Dick holds out the mug for Tim to take. “It’s not poisoned, Tim, I swear.”

Tim keeps his expression blank while looking at Dick but accepted the coffee. Dick grins at Tim, which confuses him even more. 

 _Why the fuck is Dick grinning at me like that?_  Tim frowns as he sips his coffee. 

Tim does his very best _not_ to violently spit out the ‘coffee’.  After being exiled from the Bats for so long, Tim forgot a cardinal rule:

_Dick can’t cook._

Tim flashes back to when Dick almost burnt down the Manner when trying to make toast. Toast.

_“I like butter on my toast, Alfred. How was I supposed to know that you should put it on until after it’s done toasting?”_

_Dick grins at Alfred who purses his lips while emptying the fire extinguisher onto the burning toaster._

Since then, Alfred banished Dick from the kitchen. Last time Tim checked, Dick couldn’t get a glass of water without supervision.

Dick frowns, “no good?”

_Did you even bother to use a coffee filter? I swear there are coffee grinds in here._

Tim weighs his answer before saying, “I’ve had worse.”

Sure, Dick had made those cups too but he doesn’t need to know that. 

“That’s great,” Dick grins again. 

“Is it though,” Babs glares at Dick before taking the last of the food from the containers. “Dick, can you go grab us some dishes,” 

Dick nods before disappearing. 

Barbara looks at Tim. “It’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

Before Tim could assure Barbara that he is fine (or ask her what the hell she’s talking about; he isn’t sure which) Dick's back with plates, cutlery, and two sodas. 

It’s amazing how fast Dick is sometimes.

*     *     *

“And you honestly think Damian is going to put up with this? This is the same Damian that I’ve met, right? Because I don’t buy that for a second.”

Jason sighs. This isn’t how he wanted to spend his dinner date with Roy. Well, telecommunicated dinner date but semantics.

Shit, he was startin’ ta sound like Replacement.

“Dami says he’ll give it a shot.” Jason could hear Roy’s disbelief in the ringing silence. “It’s got B’s—and more importantly _Dick’s_ —gold star so ‘course he’s gonna put up with it.”

“What did Bruce bribe him with?”

Jason snorts. “No clue. I’m guessin’ an elephant.”

Roy’s snorts. “Speaking of Dick,” Jason groans which Roy ignores, “how are you two doing?”

Jason grunts.

“Yeah, I’m going to need a few nouns, verbs and hey, if you’re feeling really adventurous, I’ll even take an adjective.”

Jason glares at Roy.

Roy smirks back.

“It’s healthy to talk about your feeling, Jay.”

“Fuck you.”

“Well, that would be a challenge with us being on opposite coasts but maybe if you're good, I will the next time I see you.”

Rolling his eye, Jason huffs at Roy, “Dick _Dick_. There ain’t any reasonin’ with ‘em.”

“Still, you were pretty pissed at him when you found out about how he gave Damian Robin.”

“‘Course I was. Dickhead had no idea what he was doin’. I do.”

“Have you tried talking to Tim about it?”

“Da fuck would I do that for?”

Roy sighs in dat stupid fucking way he _always_ does when he thinks Jason’s being think on purpose. “Maybe he’s okay with the way it all went down? Maybe he moved passed it?”

 _Oh, you sweet summer child. Not even you're_ ** _that_** _naïve_. 

“Sure, just like you were cool when Ollie drop ya ta pick up a new Speedy.”

Roy sucks in a breath like he’d been punched. “Fair point. And, also, fuck you.”

“Sorry,” Jason mumbles, not meeting Roy’s eyes, because, yeah, it had been a low blow. Sure, Roy and Oliver were getting along _now_ but that was more for Lian’s sake than anything else.

“S’okay,” Roy pauses, searching for the right words. “My point is, you should talk to Tim before you go blowing anything up with Dick, okay? Besides, didn’t you want to talk to him about whatever happened to him last month?”

Jason nods, because, yeah he did want to do that. “Fine, fine. I’ll check on Replacement soon, alright? Now, how’s Lian?”

Roy grins at the topic change before going starting to tell Jason all about Lian first ballet lesson. 

Apparently, _Jason’s niece_ (Roy’s words) made her teacher cry when Lian asked why she couldn’t have an Arsenal tutu.

*     *     *

Dinner’s awkward. It’s that simple. Tim won’t even look at Dick and every time he tries to say something, Babs shakes her head.

Dick knows she’s pissed at him. He knows she doesn’t like his plan. But really, she the one who said that they needed more data about Tim and _this_ is their best plan. 

Okay, even Dick knows he’s grasping at straw now.

Meanwhile, Babs and Tim are discussing the new hacker. 

Babs thinks it someone new to the scene.

Somebody who the Bats don’t know about.

Somebody good.

Tim agrees.

“How’s school, Tim?” 

Tim and his blank mask look up from his lettuce wrap he’d been picking at all night. 

When the hell did _that_ become a thing? Because Dick over having dinner with this Pod Person claiming to be Tim.

“Good. I’m almost done with my master's program.”

When the hell did Tim get a bachelor degree?

“That’s great Tim!  Computer Science?”

“MBA. The board is on the fence with me enough as it is. I thought this would make it better.”

Dick can’t remember Tim ever having any interest in getting a Business degree. 

“Nice.”

Tim hums in agreement, sipping his coffee.

“That reminds me,” Tim’s eyes whip around to meet Dick’s, “I wanted to apologize.”

Tim leans back in his chair, staring at Dick. “For what? You haven’t done anything.”

 _Gee, I don’t know, Timmy. Maybe the fact that I was so worried about letting Dami fall off the map I let you do it instead. Maybe I just don’t like that_ ** _Jason_** _calls you more often than I do. Maybe I just feel bad about everything. Maybe because you’re right, I haven’t done anything_.  

Dick doesn’t say any of these things. Those sins are going to have to be dealt with one at time. When Tim trust him again.

What Dick does say is, “I shouldn't have dropped by your office like that. I’m sorry.”

Tim is staring at Dick like he’s a Millennium Prize Problem and Tim knows he’s not going to solve it. 

Yet.

“It’s fine, Dick. Water under the bridge.”

Dick does his best to _not_ wince.

“There was something I wanted to ask you about though.” Tim hums, not meeting his eyes. “Tam said something odd.”

Tim’s eye twitches.

_Huh. That the most emotions I’ve seen out of you all night there Baby Bird._

“Which was?”

Babs is giving Dick her best, _shut up. Shut up NOW_ look.

But you know the saying: in for a penny….

“She asked me where I was last month,” anyone who _isn't_ a Bat would have missed Tim’s hard swallow before meeting Dick’s eyes.

“I had a tech-free weekend at the Tower. Call it a staycation if you will. Tam got worried when she couldn’t get ahold of me. Forgot to tell her I was doing it.” Tim gives a Dick a nonchalant shrug. “You know how it is.”

Which all seems…perfectly reasonable. Something that any normal person would do. Any reasonable person should be able to handle that as an answer. 

And yet…

“What happened in Iraq?”

This time, Bullock wouldn’t have been able to miss Tim’s flinch.

“Lots of things happen in Iraq every day, Dick. For one, there’s some evidence that it was the home to a thriving pre-historic—”

“When were _you_ in Iraq?”

Because, Dick can’t find anything about Tim being in Iraq. Ever. 

And it’s pissing him off.

Just like this whole dinner is making Dick angry.

“Dick,” Babs hisses at him from across the table.

“Who says I’ve ever been to Iraq?”

“Tam.”

“Hmm,” Tim leans back in his chair, sipping his coffee, expression blank. “You know, I don’t recall.” Tim stands up, placing his empty coffee cup on the table. “This has been fun, but I got to go. Babs, if you want to forward me the files, I’ll take a look at them.”

“Sure Tim, thanks for dinner.”

“Wait, Tim,” Tim pauses, turning to face Dick with one cocked eyebrow. 

Shit. 

How’s Dick going to get Tim to come back?

“We’re having a movie night tomorrow night. It’s going to be _Raiders_ , apparently, Dami never seen it,” Dick lamely finishes.

“Okay, I’ll cover your patrol. Thanks for the heads up.”

“No!  That’s not what I meant. I was inviting you.” 

Tim looks like he’d rather be Indiana in the snake pit.

“Love to, can’t. I have to run down a lead on a weapons dealer for the Titans. Maybe next time,” Tim rattles off. 

Dick ignores Babs’ subtle pinch for him to stop. “Come after; you know how long movie nights can go. Hell, we’ll probably still be having movie night tomorrow morning.”

“I don’t know how long getting the intel will take to get, Dick. Next time.”

“Then let me come with you. Two sets of eyes are better than one.” 

“Sorry. It’s a need to know case,” Tim shrugs which Dick in the room buys. “It’d take too long to get you up to speed. Besides, it’s a one-person recon mission. Easy peasy.”

“Then how about we patrol after you're done?”

“Because you just told me you’re having a movie night with Damian.” Tim’s as calm as if he were in the middle of negotiating a hostage release.

Tim holds Dick’s gaze while Barbara inches closer to Tim. She softly touches his shoulder. “Tim, we know you're busy but—”

“But what?” Tim looks at Babs, shrugging out of her grasp. “Yeah, I’ve been busy. Running an international business, the Titian, and being Red take up some _time_. I’ve been doing it for what: Three years now? Why the sudden concern?”

“We’ve always been concerned about you.” 

“Sure. I still have to go, though.” 

“Tim wait—”

But it’s no use. Tim out the door before Dick could open his mouth.

After what feels like a month, Babs shakes her head. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“Babs, _please_ —”

“No, Dick. Sooner or later he’s going to figure it out and he’s going to be pissed.”

Dick sighs. “Yeah, I know.”

*     *     *

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Tim snickers, pulling off his shirt. He always finds it funny when Con starts swearing. True, the more time Conner spends around the Titans, the more his vocabulary… _expands_. 

Tim called Conner the instances he’d gotten back to his apartment. Conner, for his part, is horrified Dick ambushed and tried to guilt-trip Tim at dinner.

“Nope,” Tim replies, popping the ‘p’. “Shoulda seen it coming in retrospect.”

“Yeah but still, what a _dick_.”

“That is his name; don’t wear it out.” Tim tosses his shirt onto the ground. It lands with an odd clinking noise. Tim glances at the shirt before freezing. 

Moonlight shines down from his window to reveal a shiny something on the sleeve of his t-shirt. 

Tim picks up his shirt, staring. “Son of a bitch. They put a tracker on me.”

Conner, who’d been listing the many ways Dick is a _dick_ , stops mid-sentence. “Whoa, whoa, wait. Are you joking? Because, fuck dude, that’s not a very funny joke.”

“No, I’m not. They put a fucking tracker on my shirt. Shiiiiiiiiiiit,” Tim draws out the last word while Con hums in agreement. 

Tim flicks on the lights, inspecting the tracker for a minute. It _almost_ looks like a sticker you’d give a little kid. 

The tracker is a stander no-frills GPS that he sometimes uses. The design lent itself for short-term use. He rotates it and swears again.

“It has the Birds logo on it.”

The dead air coming from the other end of the line is heavy.

“Why would Barbara want to put a tracker on you?” Tim wrinkles at the soft tone. It’s one Superboy uses for hurt, lost children _not_ Tim.

“Who knows? Probably so she could track where I was staying. None of the Bats knew where my set up in Gotham is at the moment.”

“I thought you said Batman came to visit you?”

“He did,” Tim agrees. “But he’s Batman and this is Gotham. I’d be surprised if he doesn’t know who lives in every apartment. I doubt he’d share though,” Tim planted his back against the wall before sinking down. “What’s with all the sudden interest? We’d been doing fine. The Batfam doing their thing; I’ve been doing mine. They’d call, I’d come. They’d need help, I’d help. They had each other while I had—” Tim stops there. 

Tim doesn’t want to finish that thought. 

“While you have us,” Conner finishes.

“Yeah, while I have you.” Tim takes a minute to compose himself. “While I’m fine.”

Conner, thankfully, doesn’t say a word.

Tim feels a drop of water fall onto his bare chest. He glances down, brushing away the tear.

*     *     *

If Hood forces Robin to observe one more _happy family_ , Robin is going to shoot him. 

With Hood’s own guns. 

Repeatedly. 

Although, that would anger Father.

And disappoint Grayson.

It would also cause Pennyworth to sigh.

Robin, however, is beginning to think there would not be a way around it.

“Look at ‘em, Robin. Whatcha see?” 

Robin exhales before peering through his domino at the cramped, grimy apartment. There are two small children sitting on a filthy couch. Empty food wrappers surround them. 

The younger of the two, a boy, approximately five, appears to be crying. 

The older one, a girl, ten, is trying (and failing) to pacify him. 

No adults to be seen.

“Tt. A textbook case of child neglect. We should alert the proper authorities and be on our way.”

Hood ignores him.

The door in the apartment they had been observing burst opened. The two children on the couch jump.

Robin tenses.

_Maybe this will not be as boring as I thought._

The looks of surprise on the children’s faces melt into joy; the pair run-up to the man who’d just entered the apartment, jumping into his arms.

The children and the man hug for so long that Robin worries about their oxygen levels. 

The man picks up a child in each arm and carries them from the room.

Hood turns to Robin, “so, what did you learn?”

Robin stares nonplus at Hood. 

“Hood, I don’t see the point—”

Hood tuts. 

He _tuts_ at Damian before turning away.

“Next.” 

Robin glares at Hood. “Hood, I am not—”

“Yeah, yer are,” Hood grabs Robin by the cape, dragging him two roofs over. 

“Unhand me at once, Hood! I am capable of walking on my own!”

“No shit ya can walk. But I’m teaching here so shut up and _learn_.” 

Hood finally stops on a corner of a roof. It looks over a small market that appears to be empty. Hood indicates to Robin to watch the storefront. Robin huffs but begrudgingly watches. 

He sees a young woman, who appears to be pregnant coming out of the store. She hobbles along until she’s halfway down the block when she stops and looks around before carefully pulling out something from under her shirt. 

Is that—bread?

Robin straightens. 

Finally, something worthy of his talents as a Robin. “We need to catch her. She just stole that—”

“Nope,” Jason pops the ‘p’, “that’s not what we’re gonna do. Watch.” Hood catches Robin’s cape in his hand. Robin struggles, trying to escape Hood’s grasp. 

He really must speak with Father about having this liability from his uniform.

“Release me at once, Hood.”

Jason ignores him, choosing instead to stare down towards the criminal. Robin glances down, freezing. 

Three teenagers now surround the young woman. 

Instead of looking frightened, she’s giving them a half-smile, holding out the food she had stolen to teenagers. 

The teenagers look warily from the woman to the food. 

Even from here, Robin could tell that the teenagers were far too skinny. 

Their bones suck out like Drake’s when he was working on a case shortly after Brown’s (fake) death and forgot to eat for a week. 

Grayson and Pennyworth had force Drake to eat and he’d been benched for a month after.

The closes teenager reaches out, snacking the food from the young woman before disappears back down the alleyway. 

The young woman’s shoulders dip slightly. 

She looks…sad?

Why would she be sad?

She gives herself a small shake before trudging away.

Damian stares, nonplussed at the now empty street, “she stole that food.”

“Yep,” Hood popping the ‘p’ again.

“And then gave it away.”

“U-huh.”

“I…do not understand.”

“What don’tcha get, Baby Bat?” 

“She did all of the work. She risked everything.”

“She did,” Hood agrees.

“She should be the one eating.”

“What about the kids?” 

Damian straightens. “They should not get food until they can take it for themselves.” 

Hood tuts. 

Hood tuts at Robin. 

Again.

Robin glared up at Hood.

“Dat’s Ra’s talkin’. Let’s go to the next one.”

Robin groans. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Show of hands, who thinks Jason's going to be a good teacher?
> 
> [Click here](https://reallyautomaticvoid.tumblr.com) for my tumblr and thanks for reading!


	9. Six Types of Faux Cheese

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Batman tries to catch up with Red Robin. Then Bruce does have a conversation with Tim. Sort of. Oh, and Jason is horrified with Tim’s dining choices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops! I didn't mean to go that long without an update...I'm sorry! Life decided to get busy. But I'm back now!
> 
> Fair warning, this is a busy chapter.
> 
> Thank you, everyone, who commented on my last chapter! I wasn't really happy with it, but I'm glad so many people like it. I did go back and make some minor changes (grammatical/spelling stuff).
> 
> TW: Angst; Minor Violence

Batman is not eavesdropping. He's monitoring. There's a difference.

He can feel Alfred's disapproval.

Two checks are already in the mail to the young woman (Jayla Smith) and the Williams from the Wayne Foundation.

Batman knows Red Robin is in town before Nightwing catches up with him during patrol.

"You did what, Nightwing?" Bruce pulls a weary hand over his face, trying to comprehend what his eldest told him. "You understand what an enormous invasion of his privacy that is?"

"You sound just like Babs," Dick pouts. It's the same pout that Dick used to use when Bruce had told Dick he couldn't bring an elephant home with him from the circus.

"Good." Because that means Bruce is doing something right.

Dick runs a hand through his hair. "I just wanted to know how Tim's doing."

"And you didn't just ask because…" Bruce lets his question trail off, squinting at Red Hood's current location.

Dick doesn't answer. Because they both know what the answer would be.

"How's Hood's _let's teach Robin how a family works_ lesson going?"

Bruce nods a few roofs over. Nightwing's head swivels to look.

Both winces as Red Hood drags Robin down a fire escape to spy on _something_ while Robin refuses to move. Unfortunately for Damian, Jason easily has a hundred pounds on the youngest (and virtual no shame in doing this), so Robin's going where Hood wants.

For what it's worth, Jason appeared to be having the time of his life.  Damian…not so much.

"Well, it could be worse I suppose," Dick sighs, watching Damian trying to remove Robin's cape (or Jason's hand; could be either one honestly) with a Batarang.

Bruce grunts.

"Should we go and help?"

"No," Bruce grimaces as Hood puts a hand on Robin's forehead to prevent the younger vigilante from hitting him. "They're almost done. Robin has a test in the morning, and Hood promised Robin would get at least six hours of sleep."

"Alright," Dick hums. "I have a few leads I need to run down for O. See you." Nightwing takes a running leap before landing on the neighboring roof.

Batman watches his eldest son until he disappears in the direction of the docks before turning the opposite direction.

Before patrol, Bruce found Red Robin's usual Gotham patrol route. He had wanted to observe Red in the field; something he hasn't done in an embarrassingly long time. It takes an hour of searching before Batman touches down; finding Red Robin fighting a group of muggers.

Batman sticks to the shadows, not wanting to draw focus from the fight, but still close enough he could hear and step in if need be. Bruce observes his youngest adopted son. However, it doesn't appear Red Robin will need Batman's help.

Red moves like water.

For the briefest of moments, Batman's hit with pangs of nostalgia. He wants to help Red take down the muggers like he'd been Robin. Batman wants to have Red's back and for Red to have his.

Batman quashes the feeling. Regret is for Bruce to deal with; not Batman.

Instead, Batman studies Red's moves.

They were precise. Controlled. Deadly.

Batman's eyes narrowed.

Red perform a distinct flip over mugger number two that flows seamlessly into a kick to mugger number three chin before taking mugger number two and throwing him into mugger number four.

Batman clenches his fist, exhaling through his nose. He recognizes the fighting style Red's using. Batman forces himself to inhale slowly from his nose. There's only one place in the world where Red could have learned those moves. Batman's mouth became a thin line. Red's elbow soared into mugger number four's nose.

He knows he'd never taught Tim those moves. He never wanted Tim to _know_ those moves.

Dick was right. Bruce had been out of the loop longer than he realizes.

With a mixture of pride and fury, Batman watches as Red takes down the last of the mugger. Red grabs mugger number one by the collar before leaning in. Batman looks on as Red whispers furiously to the mugger. The man looks frightened. The mugger wildly shakes his head no before Red shakes him again. Dazed now, but still terrified, the mugger continues with his head shaking.

Red growls before punching the mugger out cold. He then shuffles through the mugger's pockets before dropped him like a sack of potatoes and kicking him aside.

Batman stiffness at Red's actions. Back when Tim was Robin, Bruce had never seen Robin be so… _aggressive_. Tim's always been the best at controlling his emotions. Measured. Purposeful of his movements. Precise. Sometimes, to an alarming degree.

Red, however….

Red's back straightens before looks directly at Batman. It's Red's turn for his mouth to thin. They stare at each other for a full minute. Bruce opens his mouth to say something, but in one fluid motion, Red turns his back on Batman, tying up the mugger before pulling out his grappling gun before shooting it onto the roof and flying away.

In a blink, Red's gone.

*    *     *

 _Shit, shit, mother fucking shit. How long had Batman been watching me? Goddamnit_.

The ground rushes pass under Red's feet. The lead that he's been following for the better part of a month had just hit another dead end. Annnnnnd He's all out of clues.

Annnnnnd Batman had been watching him. He'd seen Red's momentary lose control.

Red soars over two roofs landing hard next to a pair who were robbing an ATM. Because he can't catch a fucking break tonight.

"Ah, great, it's a freak in a fuckin' cape."

"Yeah, that's on my business card," Red punches robber in the face. "Red Robin: Freak in a fucking cape, for all your party needs." The second robber grabs Red from behind, but Red throws him over his shoulder onto the ground. "Guess what?" Red grabs the robber he'd punches in the face before slamming him against the wall. "I'm running a two for one special tonight."

"Lucky us," Robber number two grunts.

"Yup. That means you two," Red pulls a net out, throwing it to catch the robber who started to run away, "are going down for the price of one."

"Yeah?"

A flicker of motion in the corner of his eye catches Reds attention. He glances over. _Of course._ Red scowl. Batman had found him.

 _Again_. _Why in the Hell did Batman pick tonight of all nights to babysit him?_

"Yeah," Red pulls out zip ties from his belt, looping them around the robber's wrists, pulling them tight. The wail of sirens screech towards him.

_Goddamnit, Batman._

Apparently, the Dark Knight decided Tim isn't able to handle his patrol tonight.

Fantastic.

Red fires his grappling gun, shooting it towards the farthest building Batman, cape whipping around as he flies. Red's feet slam down onto the rooftop. Pausing, Red looks around.

The Perch is miles away. Red's brain flashes to his bike, still tucked in its nook in his garage because it was going to be an _easy_ night.  Get the info and get out.  That's it. 

Even if he made it back to his apartment, Batman already proved he isn't shy about breaking and entering.

Although lost in thought, Red notes Batman is following him. A few building behind but still.

 _Batman doesn't even trust me to get home on my own. Great_. _Fan-fucking-tastic_.

Switching gears, Red turn, sliding down a fire escape. Landing with a soft thump, Red slides into a dark corner which doubles as a secret entrance to one of his safe houses. 

Punching the code into the keypad, the door open with a soft hiss. Red is in the safe house before the door properly opens, fumbling to secure the door again. There's a distinct metal on metal whine before the satisfying chirp of his security system coming to life.

Red flicks the switch to the camera feed from the alley he just vacated. Batman slides down the same fire escape.

Batman slowly wheels around. He's studying the alleyway, trying to figure out how Red escaped his clutches.

 _Good luck_. Hood helped Red set up this safe house specifically to escape the Bats.

"We need to talk, Red." It's barely more than a whisper. Tim's not even sure he correctly. He'd have to look over the footage again before he can be sure.

The Dark Knight's lips thinned before the cape crusader disappears with a whirl of his cape.

Red lets out an irritated snort.

_That went well._

Ripping off his cowl, Red throws it to the side before sinking to the ground, rubbing his forehead in vain hope to get rid of the headache beginning to bloom behind his eyes.

He's out of leads.  Instead of hunting down new ones, he's been forced to spend the better part of the night trying to escape different members of the Batclan, who, for some Gods only know reason had chosen _tonight_ to pretend to give a crap. And to top it all off, Tim's got fucking board meetings all day tomorrow.

Tim glances at his watch and groans.

Crap.

In less than four hours, Tim had board meetings all day.

Knowing he isn't going to make it to the Perch that night, Tim stands up and in one motion takes off the rest of his uniform before setting his phone's alarm to go off in three hours and crashing onto the bed.

*    *     *

Bruce's chin is resting on his interlaced fingers. Staring (glaring) at the Batcomputer, watching the footage of Red Robin fighting the muggers on a loop for the last hour. Bruce had thought Dick had been overly dramatic about Tim (as his eldest tended to do).

Now however.…

Tim had never run from Bruce. Or Batman. He'd always been the one Bruce counted on to run _towards_ him, in either form but Red had fled when Batman tried to catch up with him before disappeared completely, of course. Bruce ground his teeth. Red disappearing before Batman got a chance to talk to his son fills Bruce with a sense of fury and pride.

A cup of coffee appears in front of Bruce with a soft clink. "

Masters Damian and Dick have gone to bed, Sir. Master Damian was unusually exhausted after his night of ‘pointless actives'," Bruce didn't need to turn to see the old man's smirk. "Master Jason is still out on patrol but radioed in saying not to wait up. What's are we watching, Master Bruce?"

Bruce glances up at Alfred who is standing at Bruce's shoulder, staring up at the screens.

"Red," Bruce grunt. He leaned back in his chair. "Notice anything?"

"He is quite thin."

Bruce suppresses a snorted because, _yes_ , that would be the first thing Alfred notices. "Yes, he is. Recognize the style?"

Alfred frowns, leaning in. "Is that—are those…?" His voice trails off. "My word. Those _are_ —"

"League of Assassin moves," Bruce scowls at the screen. "Apparently, Ra's has been teaching Tim some new moves." Bruce ran his hand down his face. "I knew…I knew that Tim had taken some time. Explored the world." Guilt began to weigh down in Bruce's gut. "I knew that Tim had some difficultly after losing Robin. But going to Ra's…."

Bruce's voice trails off, watching for the hundredth time his third son land a complicated motion. _The Demon's Trap_. When the hell did Ra's taught Tim this? _Why_  the hell did Ra's taught him this? Bruce only knew about the move because Talia had shown it to him once, telling him it was a jealously guarded Al Ghul secret. No one outside of the family had ever been taught it. Not even Damian, who was deemed too young.

But here's Tim, doing it like he's been doing it his whole life. It's natural. It's deadly.

One millimeter. That's all would take. One millimeter to go from a stunning blow to a deadly one. But Tim knew right from wrong.

He wouldn't slip.

He _couldn't_ slip.

Unwanted memories threaten to overtake Bruce. One of a young Red bubbled to the surface.

Bruce could still feel the brisk night air on his skin. He'd only taken the Batman mantle back from Dick a few weeks before. He was still getting back into the grove of being Batman; working with a new Robin. Bruce hadn't known that Red Robin was in town. He hadn't seen his son since Tim had pulled Bruce from the time stream.

This hadn't been the circumstances Bruce wanted for their first meeting. Then again, having a screaming match with one of his sons across a roof was on-brand for Batman.

" _You don't understand what he did, Batman." Red crosses his arms._

_Batman looms over Red, staring at his once partner. "It doesn't matter, Red. There are some lines we never cross."_

_"I tried to stop it! Hell, I stop my plan! Why else would I be up here? How the hell was I supposed to know Ra's was sending along some added insurance?"_

_"Because you should always know."_

_"Not all of us are omniscient, B. Some of us make mistakes."_

_"Then you should be better."_

_"I didn't pull the trigger!"_

_"No, you didn't. You just lined up the shot. And now someone's dead." Bruce's eyes stray over to the cold body of Harkness. Blood is still oozing from the bullet hole in his skull. "And there isn't anything we can do to get around that."_

_Red coldly laughs. "Except for Hood and your new little Robin, right? They'll get as many free murder passes as they want, right?"_

_Batman didn't answer because Bruce doesn't have an answer._

_Red shakes his head before disappearing into the night._

_The next morning, Bruce read the Gotham Gazette and discovers Jack Drakes' murder had been killed the previous night. A suspected gang shooting. Isn't it always in Gotham? That or a vigilante._

_Tim Drake-Wayne had not been available to comment. He'd been back to San Francisco before the sun kissed the morning sky._

_It had taken months of arguing between himself and Selina and himself and Alfred to see that Tim was just another victim in this._

_He'd tried to talk to Tim about it, but anytime a discussion would stray away from work (WE or otherwise) Tim would shut it down. Tim barley tolerated Brucie Wayne interference at Wayne Enterprises back then. He would smile and say all the right things for the cameras and listening ears, but when they were gone, so was he._

So Bruce back off. He let Tim come around in his own time. And he'd started too. At least, that's what Bruce thought.

Alfred puts his hand on Bruce's shoulder, squeezing it. "Don't worry, Master Bruce, Master Tim will come back."

Bruce continues to glare at the screen.

Alfred sighs, "Master Bruce, I know this will be hard for you to understand, but not everything is lost. He's still _here_. You're still _here_. I've never known you to give up a fight." Alfred paused before murmuring, "even if it would do you some good too."

Bruce didn't react to the words.

Alfred sighed. "Not everything is your fault, sir."

"No. But I think this might be."

*    *     *

 _Beep, beep, beep_.

Tim shuts the alarm off on his phone without a looking. Despised being tired, Tim hadn't been able to sleep. Natural solution? Starting his post-mission reports.

"Da fuck are you doing here? Don't you have a nice, cozy apartment, not one mile from here?"

Tim glances up from his laptop to see Jason coming in through the window before going back to his computer. "Long story," Tim crisply replies.

Jason hums back while he heads back to the kitchen. Staring at his laptop, Tim cringes as he heard one, two, _three_ crashes and Jason swearing coming from the kitchen.

"Motherfucker. Who the Hell put this kitchen together," There's another crash followed by a nasty crunching sound. "Goddamnit, Replacement! What moron taught ya how ta put a kitchen together? I'd like ta shoot them." 

Tim doesn't remind Jason that he's the one who put the kitchen together.

Tim glance up to see Jason in the doorway, holding a bag. "You know nothin' eatable should be this color, right?"

"I like cheese puffs."

Jason shakes the bag. "And why the fuck do ya have six different types of fake cheese but no _actually_ cheese?"

"I like cheese puffs," Tim repeats.

Jason reads the bag he's holding. "Dis says it's with real cheese."

"See health food."

"I don't see cheese listed in the ingredients."

"I'm sure it's there."

"Ya shouldn't eat anything this color."

"Yeah, well, sue me."

"Okay, how much ya worth?"

"Less than it's worth to you to deal with the press."

"Good point."

"Jay?"

"Ya?"

"Get out of my kitchen. What the fuck were you looking for?"

"I was looking for _food_. Ya know, the stuff that's _supposed_ ta be in a kitchen," Jason turned back into the kitchen. "Is there anything in here that isn't processed?"

"Coffee."

"Doesn't count."

"Oh. Probably not then." Tim glares at his report which is refusing to make any sense. The slight throbbing behind his eyes isn't helping. What was he writing up again? Right. The lead that has him following the—suddenly, his laptop is yanked off of his lap.

"Hey," Tim scowls at Jason, "I was working on that."

"Yer always working," Jason shoves a burrito into Tim's empty hands. "Take a break. Eat." As if on cue, Tim's stomach growls. Jason smirks at him before sinking onto the bed next to Tim. "Sound's like you're hungry."

Tim glowers at Jason for a second before taking a comically large bite, almost choking on it before getting the food down. Jason snickers at Tim.

"Shut up," Tim coughs.

"Ya can take down an international arms dealer without any coffee but can the great Red Robin take down a breakfast burrito? Wait until the Rogues find out," Tim flip Jason off while Jason laughed. "Oh, yeah, that' real intimating. You got a little egg right," Jason reaches out to smack Tim in the face while Tim laughs, ducking Jason's hand.

"Fuck off. I'm fine."

Jason snorts.

"What? I am," Tim adds, defensively.

 _Batman probably sent him here to check up on me because I beat the crap out of those mercenaries last night._  

Expect, Jason wouldn't do that, right?

"Riiiiiiight. And I'm well adjusted."

"I'm glad to hear you say that, Jason. I know the others have been worried about you. Personally, I don't see why.  Who isn't well adjusted after being beaten to death by the Joker and brought back to life by their adoptive father on again off again Baby Mama?"

Jason blinks at Tim before throwing a crumpled napkin at Tim's head that Tim easily avoids.

"Dick."

"Sorry, not sorry; he's not here. Check the Manner."

Jason snorts. "Speaking of Dick," Tim tense, not liking where this conversation is headed, "we had a family meeting."

"Really?"

_See, no invite, not part of the family. And that's fine_ _._

"Yeah. You came up."

Tim's suddenly fascinated by his burrito. He doesn't want to talk about this (whatever this is) over crappy half-frozen breakfast burritos.

Or to Jason.

Or at all.

Short of jumping out a window, Tim doesn't see a way out of this. It's a tempting thought, though. Then again, Jason would probably jump out after him and sit on Tim while they chat. That would be uncomfortable for both parties. Although for Jason it'd probably just be the whole, he's sitting on Tim thing rather than Tim who would be suffocating.

Instead, Tim waits. "And?"

Jason shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

_Great, they probably want me out of the city and Jason drew the short straw. Wonder if they'll give me enough time to move out all of my stuff before running me out of town?_

"Dick said dat he took the Robin away from ya."

Ah. That's what this heart to heart was about.

 _I'd rather be run out of town than talk about this_.

Tim drops his burrito before getting up and heading towards his closet. It houses some emergency _Tim Wayne_ suites just in case.

"Old news, Jason. It's fine."

"Bullshit," the venom in Jason's voice make Tim pause. "That's bullshit, Repla— _Tim_. You might be able ta hoodwink the others but not me. I'm the only other person on this fucking planet who knows what the fuck that feels like."

"Jason, I don't know what—"

"Yeah, ya do."

 _Yeah, he does_.

"You know it's okay ta be pissed at him."

"Jason. It's old news," Tim Wayne's voice is firm. Decisive. There isn't any grey area in his tone. "I'm fine," Tim ignores Jason's disbelieving eye roll. "I'm over it."

"Bullshit. There's no fucking way you're over it." Jason pauses before he muttering, "I'm not fucking over it, Tim. There's no way in fucking hell that you're over it."

Tim pauses because, _shit_ , "Jason—"

"Nah, that's _really_ old news, Tim," Jason gives Tim a wry smile, "I was dead, after all. Who'd known that I was gonna come back?"

"Batman. Or Talia."

Jason laughs before sobering. "You know, I'm here for you Timbit, if you ever need anything. Talk about your feelings, hid a body, whatever. I'll even make sure it doesn't get back to the Bat."

A smile brushes Tim's lips. "I know Jay. Thanks."

* * *

 _Thump_.

Tim looks up from the mountain of forms to see that Tam had placed a full mug of coffee down in front of him. He nods his thanks before picking up the full mug inhaling deeply from the cup. It was Tim's favorite blend, an Arabica bean blend from Costa Rica, cost twenty dollars a pound, and only brought out for emergencies.

Which can only mean one thing.

"I have good news, bad news, and worst news."

Called it.

"How are you so giddy when you're about to give your _boss_ bad news," Tim reclines in his CEO chair.

"Talent," Tam smiles, "hey look, bonus good new for you bossman! You have a talented, patience, wonderful assistant who is _criminally_ underpaid."

"I already knew that, Tam," Tim chuckles, sipping his coffee. "You tell me that weekly."

"And I have yet to see a raise," Tam sighs dramatically.

"I'll put it on my to-do list," Tim studies Tam as he sips his coffee. She's subconsciously shifting her weight from one foot to the other. This isn't normal Tam behavior.

"Alright then, out with it."

Tam waits for Tim to put his mug down before launching into her speech, "Mr. Wayne is here to see you. As in, Bruce fucking Wayne is sitting in our waiting area refusing to leave until you see him."

A minuscule groan escapes from Tim before he could help himself. It's been three hours since Tim had seen anyone in the Batfamily.

Tam doesn't comment, "he also said to tell you that it's been a while since _Brucie_ has done anything overly… _eccentric_."

An acute throbbing beginning to form in Tim's front temple. Tim sips his coffee.

Tim squeezes his eyes shut so the light couldn't enter his vision; praying that he could hold off the migrant that was threatening to take over his skull all morning. He exhales slowly through his nostrils trying (and failing) to control the pounding in his head.

"I don't suppose you told him that I had a full day," Tim's controlled voice asks.

Tam tuts, "what, I'm I new here? Of course I did."

"A full day that includes a meeting with the board _and_  investors," Tim continues, ignoring Tam's sarcasm.

"Told him that too."

"And he doesn't care?"

"Not in the least."

"Great."

"Yep. You want me to show him in?"

 _No_.

"Fine. Call me when the board meeting is about to start. The last thing I need today is to miss that meeting."

"Will do, Tim," she turns to leave.

"Hey, wait a minute," Tam pauses, looking back at Tim, "you said you had good news."

"Yeah," Tam smirks, "I brought you coffee."

Tim snorts making a mental note to an email to the payroll department later that day to give Tam a pay increase.

Tam give Tim a significant smile before cracking the entryway open, "Tim will see you now."

Tam moves aside as _Brucie_ strolls in bearing a large paper bag. Tam's mouths _behave_ to Tim before shutting the door. Bruce and Tim watch each other for a moment before Bruce crossing the room in three strides, settling in one of the two chairs in front of Tim's desk.

"Bruce, what can I do for you," Tim inquires, twirling around in his chair, sliding papers about, searching for his notes for the board meeting. It has nothing to do with the man settling himself in Tim's previously vacant seat.

Really. It didn't.

"I don't have very long; the board meeting is about to start, but, if you want to give me the deets real quick, or write them down, I'll get to it as soon as possible."

"Tim," Tim's body freezes for a split second, old Robin training kicking in because that tone never meant anything good, before remembering he's not _that_ Robin anymore ( _remember_?), "I'm not here for anything. Not a case, not to start a fight."

Tim's fight or flight response twitches as despite Bruce's calm tone. It makes Tim think of better times, back in the days when Tim had been Robin, and Bruce had comforted the then young Robin after a rough patrol. Tim shakes himself, remembering the time and place they're currently in.

"I have something to give you."

Tim searches his memories. Why on Earth would Bruce be giving Tim anything? Or anybody else in the Batfamily for that matter? Is there something he'd missed? Tim glances at the calendar fastening to the wall. There aren't any holidays coming up; Tim ceased celebrating his birthday years ago.

A swirl of painful memories well up whenever Tim thinks too hard about his birthday so he'd stop celebrating it. There isn't any reason for the Bats to be giving Tim the time of day, let alone anything else.

It takes Bruce clearing his throat for Tim to register that he'd frozen while looking through his papers. Tim seizes the notebook he'd been hunting for before turning back to face Bruce.

Tim lifts his eyebrows at Bruce; keeping his voice indifferent, he says, "oh, you already have the info for me? Great, I'll look at it when I get back from the board meeting. But I have to get going now, or I'm going to be late."

Tim makes to get up, but Bruce is faster.

Fucking Batman.

He flips the paper bag over, dumping the contents onto Tim's desk. Jumping back into his chair, he almost topples over (silver lining, he doesn't shriek). Recovering himself quickly (because, well, **Bats** ) Tim inspects the bits of paper that littered the top of his desk.

It was regular, white, dull, printer paper. Tim studies several pieces of confetti with the WE letterhead on it. The print on the paper was minuscule. He picks up a bit with his loopy signature on it. There are at least three more pieces.

_What the hell would Bruce have with my signature all over it?_

Tim shoots Bruce a cynical expression before his CEO mask slips back on, "shredded paperwork? Is this some sort of bizarre protest? You want WE to go paperless or something? Or," Tim picks up a handful of the confetti, throwing it up in the air, "do you want us to host a party?"

Jerk move? Sure. Every so often though it was worth it.

Bruce furors his brow. "No."

Yep, he's getting a Bat induced migraine. _Great, been a while since I got one of these_. Tim waits for his former mentor to say _something_ while Bruce stares unblinkingly at Tim.

Tim sighs, "look, Bruce, I have a board meeting," glancing at the clock on his computer and wincing, "liiiiiike now, so could you tell me what you need?"

Bruce gives Tim an unimpressed look. Not that Tim isn't entirely used to _that_ look by now, typical though, it was a bit more subtle.

And from Damian.

Or Dick.

Although Batman had been known to give all of his Robins that look at one time or another.

Once, Jason and Dick argued over who'd gotten that look more often. After an hour of fighting, Alfred finally put the argument to rest with a raised eyebrow.

Tim hadn't said it at the time, but he knew he was the one who got the most Wayne unimpressed looks.

And not just from Damian.

With a buzz and flashing red light of the intercom, Tim broke off the staring contest ( _battle of wills_ ) between himself and Bruce.

"Hey Tim, the board meeting is about to start," Tam's voice crackles through the speaker.

Tim presses the intercom button, "thanks, Tam. I'll be out in just a minute. Can you tell the board I'll be there shortly?"

"Will do bossman," with a chirp, the intercom's red light goes out.

This time, when Tim gets up, Bruce does _not_ shower his desk with shredded paper so, yay for small victories, right?

Tim grabs his notes for the board meeting, praying his pounding skull won't turn into headache until after the board meeting. As Tim reaches for the door handle, those dreams are dashed.

"How's Ra's?"

It was a simple question.

It _really_ is.

One that makes Tim stop dead in his tracks.

How the hell did Bruce find out about Tim's vacation ( _shut up Con, it was. I slept and everything, okay?!_ )? He vaguely remembers Bart or Con or someone telling him they talked to Jason when Tim was gone, but they'd kept Jay on a need to know. They only told Jason that Tim was missing and texted Jay when Tim back.

Mostly.

Tim knows his team wouldn't have said anything about his time with Ra's.

Mostly because they still didn't know anything about what happened with him and Ra's.

There's only so many times you can turn down a millennium-old megalomaniac before his feels start to get hurt.

Then again, this is _Batman_ he's dealing with. Tim wouldn't put it past Bruce to put a tracker in the back of his neck like a dog one of the many times he'd been unconscious in the Batcave. It was just the sort of thing _Batman_ would do.

This must be the real reason Bruce bothered to visit Tim today. It's probably why Batman followed Red for hours last night. _Maybe it's just another fucking power game between Ra's and Bruce. It's been a while since I've been caught in the middle of one of those. Fantastic, those are always a fucking mess to clean up._

Keeping his CEO mask firmly in place, Tim turn. Bruce hasn't moved from his chair. He's gazing up at Tim with a calculating expression. Tim raises an eyebrow at him.

"What are you talking about, Bruce?"

A flicker of annoyance and something else ( _concern? Couldn't be. That feeling is revered for_ essential _people_ ) flashes across Bruce's face so quickly, if Tim had blinked he would've missed it. As is, Tim isn't sure what he saw it at all.

"I think," Bruce's voice is controlled like he's choosing each word with great care. Odd but okay, "you know exactly what I'm talking about Tim." Bruce pauses, clearly expecting Tim to say something, but when Tim remained silent, Bruce carries on, "Red has picked up some new…moves."

_Oh._

_OH._

_OHHHHHH._

Tim has to physically stop himself from slumping in relief (a small sigh of relief does escape before he could stop it). Bruce's talking about Red.

Specifically, the training that he received from Ra's during Bruce's disappearance. Bruce doesn't know about Tim's _vacation_ ; otherwise, Tim would be wearing a Goddamn ankle monitor.

Bait's hard to find nowadays. 

Especially good bait.

Carefully, Tim says, "you know I spent some time with… _them_ when you were… _gone_. What did you think we were doing? Drinking tea?"

Bruce presses his lips together so tightly, they're in danger of disappearing. Evidently, this isn't a good enough answer for him. Well, too fucking bad, that's all he's getting. Tim glances at his watch, willing his headache not to get any worse.

It does. Plus Tim's late.

Great.

"Look, Bruce, it was great seeing you and all, but I have to go. Gotta make sure your family company stays in the black."

Bruce grimaces.  "That reminds me, last night Dick--"

Tim walks out of his office before Bruce could finish his sentence.

*    *     *

Despite what the clock in board meeting said, Tim is sure he'd been in that room all day. Like really, how many times does Tim have to shoot down the idea of selling WE's stock to Queen Consolidate? Even if they offer double the asking price, it's the _principle_ of the matter.

His pounding head hadn't helped matters. Tim managed to ignore it throughout the meetings, but now he's going to have to pay the price.

Reaching Tam's desk, Tim glancing around for any eavesdroppers. When he doesn't see anybody, he turns back to Tam. "Hey, Tam," she glances at him while typing on her computer.

"Hey, Tim," Tam smiles.

"Yeah, hey. Listen, tell me there isn't anything else on the books for today," at Tam's narrowing eyes (which clearly says, _you want to skive off work don't you?_ ), Tim is quick to continue, "it just, I'm getting the worst headache, and I don't want it to, you know, get any worse."

At the mention of Tim's headache, Tam's eyes soften. Being as she was the _only_ person at WE who knows about his missing spleen, whenever Tam hears a sneeze she'd happily send her boss home. Typically, it's annoying; Tim ignores most things Tam call ‘debilitating disease'.

Who doesn't come into work with walking pneumonia? It's called _walking_ for a reason.

This does give Tim a distance advantage at the moment. Whenever he _askes_ to leave because of illness, Tam always obliges.

Tam opens his calendar on her computer, looking at his schedule, "well, there aren't any appointment for today. I knew you were going back out of town for _work_ , so after the board meeting I didn't put anything else on the schedule."

Tim feels a real smile pulling at the corners of his lips. "Great, thanks, Tam."

Tam hums in acknowledgment. Tim enters his office and sees the heap of shredded paper still on his desk. Tim sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Tam?"

"Yes, bossman," her voice comes from right behind Tim. If Tim hadn't once been a Bat, he would've jumped.

Periodically, Tam tries to do something to startle Tim. She has yet to succeed. Instead of discouraging her, she seems to have taken this as a personal challenge.

Instead, he turns to look at her, gesturing at his desk. "Why?"

Tam leans around Tim to look. She raises an eyebrow before walking around him and over to his desk. Tam picks up a shredded piece of paper.

"Wow. I wondered what Mr. Wayne did with those contracts."

Tim give Tam with a puzzled look, "contracts?"

Tam fixes Tim with an incredulous look. "He came in last week, asking for the contracts that would change ownership of the company from you to Dick, Damian, or himself," she shifts guiltily. "I, uh, might not have been the _most_ polite about giving him the contracts."

Oh, Tim could imagine what Tam would have been like with Bruce. She'd made her displeasure over the documents existing known, stating quite clearly that if they were ever signed, she was quitting on the spot.

The memory of her glaring at Tim still warms his insides.

"Anyways, he asked to see the contracts yesterday and when I… _inquired_ as to why Mr. Wayne would _need_ these contracts…well, I think I have a decent idea what Gotham Criminals see nightly," Tam grimaces. Yeah, Tim has gotten a few of those looks in his lifetime. "So I pulled the contracts and gave them to him, but I got a call before I knew it, he was gone."

_Yeah, that sounded like Bruce._

"What's that got to do with…all of this?"

Shooting Tim an annoyed look, Tam says, "what do you think?"

She holds up the piece in her hand for Tim's inspection. Sighing, Tim takes the bit Tam's holding out before she dumps handful onto his palm.

_It could be…no. Bruce wouldn't be stupid enough to shred the paperwork giving him back the company. Although this arrangement does give him more time for Batman…._

As Tim muses to himself, Tam takes his recycle bin from the side of Tim's desk and starting to sweep the shredded paper into it. At the very bottom of the pile of debris, there's an envelope with Tim's name written in elegant handwriting.

 _Bruce's handwriting_.

Bruce must have slipped it under the confetti somehow.

_Fucking Batman._

The last scrap of paper flutters into the bin Tam's holding as Tim picks up the letter. Flipping it over, he sees the Wayne family crest on the envelope.

_He wrote this at the Manner. He wrote this in the Manner before bringing it here. It's something he planned. Not a spur of the moment thing._

Tam, eyeing Tim, says, "I'll be right outside if you need anything, Tim. Okay?"

"Yeah, thanks, Tam," Tim absentmindedly replies.

Tim waits until he hears the door click shut after Tam. He weighs his options.

He could one, open the letter now, two, wait until he got home to open it, or three (and the most logical course of action), tosses it.

Ignoring Bruce is never a good idea. He can be just as, if not more, persistence than Dick once he's noticed something.

_This is going to be my life for the next year, isn't it? Various Bats harassing me until they get bored or there's another alien invasion? This is Hell, isn't it? I'm in Hell?_

Before he can dive much deeper into that thought, Tim's head gave another powerful pulse. Tim, cursing his bad luck ( _like migraine, man? On top of everything else? Who fucking needs them?_ ), drops the letter into his briefcase before departing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	10. Tam Gets a Promotion!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brucie and Tam have another chat with varying levels of success. 
> 
> The Titans deal with multiple Bat issues. So does Jason. The Birds and Babs find the hacker.

Brucie isn’t one who to waits. Batman, sure. He’ll wait all night. Bruce…less so, although he swears he’s spent more than half of his life waiting for his children. Brucie, on the other hand, isn't used to being the one twiddling his thumbs. Unfortunately, this is one of those rare occasions where he  _has_  to wait.  

Which really shouldn’t bother him as much as it does.  

Brucie expected Tam to be in the office half an hour ago. Not that she couldn’t take an occasional long lunch if she needed to, he’s seen her schedule (hell, he did a double-take at Tim’s because  _when does he sleep_ ). But Bruce had already checked the office for bugs (there weren’t any), and he’s starting to get bored.

Finally, the elevator door ding and Tam exits. She’s busy talking on her cell phone.

“No, I don’t care what Bernard in payroll says, you aren’t doing that. It's unethical and illegal. Probably.” Tam catches sight of Bruce sitting at her desk. He gives her a little wave and a vacant smile. “I’m going to have to call you back.” Tam returns her phone to her purse. “Mr. Wayne. I wasn’t expecting you.” 

The  _what the hell are you doing here_  in her tone makes Bruce want to smile. “Hi Tam, I hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time.”

He hadn’t. Bruce had checked Tam's appointments before she’d gotten there.

“I always have time for a Wayne.” Lots to unpack there. “What can I do for you?”  

Standing up, Bruce gestures for her to follow. “Come with me.”  

Bruce led Tam away from Tim’s office and towards the empty offices on the other side of the floor. These offices hadn’t been occupied in years. They’d been vacant ever since Lucian decided to move his office onto the R&D floor.  

Stopping in from of the second biggest office in the building, Bruce turns to Tam, motions for her to go in.

Arching an eyebrow, Tam enters the office. “It’s an office.” Her voice is flat. “Do you want me to set it up for you?”

For a fleeting moment, Bruce is tempted. He’d be able to work with Tim again. And nobody would fault him for wanting to work at WE.

But no. That’s not what Brucie is doing today.

“No, Tam. This is your new office.”

“It’s a little far from my desk.” 

Bruce pulls out a nameplate, handing it to Tam. Tam studies it for a moment before looking up at Bruce. Her expression is blank.

“What did you do?”

Bruce wants to protest the tone but had a strong inclination that wouldn’t go well for him. “I made you the Vice President of WE in charge of daily operations. Congratulation!”

Tam blinks. “You can’t do that.”

“Yes, I can.” Brucie grins.  

Tam makes a choking sound, rubbing her eyes. “No, I mean,  _yes,_  you can do that but  _why_  are you—”

“Because you deserved it,” Bruce bluntly says. “It should have happened a while ago, honestly. Your Dad’s been wanting to slow down for a while now, and this gives him a perfect excuse.”

Tam narrows her eye. “So, you’re giving me this job because of my  **Dad**? Because if that’s the case, you can—”

“I’m giving you this job because you’ve earned it,” Bruce smoothly interrupts  _that_  train of thought. “And I wouldn’t give it to you if you didn’t deserve it. Trust me; there aren’t many people who can pry Tim away from R&D and live to tell the tale. I think the list consists of you and Alfred.”  

“So, you’re promoting me based on  **babysitting**  abilities?”

Bruce winces because this is not how this supposed to go. “No. I’m promoting you because you can and  **do** call me out when I’m out of line. I know you do the same thing for Tim. Your Father did that for years, and it’ll be good for both of you,” Bruce grimaces, “I think. But the bottom line, you earn this job Tam, by doing a damn fine job for years. You and Tim have been responsible for running this company smoothly for years.”

Tam studies Bruce while he waits for her judgment. “Did you talk to Tim about this?”

“Of course.”  

Disbelief is etched on every corner of her face. “Really?”

“Yep, I wrote to him about it.”  

“You wrote to him about it,” Tam repeats slowly, like she can’t quite wrap her brain around it.

“Yep,” Brucie beams at her. “Besides, he’s eighteen now. I’d imagine he’s going to want…” Bruce’s voice trails off because Tam's face had gone from angry to perplex to highly uncomfortable in under ten seconds. “What is it, Tam?”

“Uh, Mr. Wayne,” Tam looks like she’d rather be any else in the  **world**  than here. “You do remember Tim’s going to be twenty-one this July, right?”

Bruce blink.  

He quickly does the mental math. 

 Oh.

He rechecks his math.  

Oh  _shit_. She’s  _right_.  

In Bruce’s brain, Tim hadn’t aged in the last three years. Dick had. Damian had. Bruce most certainly had, but Tim was frozen, stuck as sixteen-year-old in his last Robin suit.  

Stuck in the last time Tim needed Bruce.

A taught smile takes over Bruce's face. “Of course. Slip my mind for a moment. Congratulations again, Tam.”

Bruce reaches out to shake her hand. Tam hesitates before grasping his hand.

“Thanks, Mr. Wayne.”

* * *

Tim’s room at the Tower is dark. The Titans got the alert that Red Robin had entered the tower, so Conner knew that Tim had landed over an hour ago. He had already checked the shared spaces to see that Tim wasn't there. That could only mean one thing:

Tim has a migraine.

 _Shit_.

Conner had been hovering outside of Tim’s door for the better part of fifteen minutes, debating what to do. A good friend would check on Tim. A smart friend would leave Tim alone until he emerged from his cave. It was never a pleasant experience when Tim has a migraine.

Finally, bulking up the courage to knock, Conner tapped on Tim’s door before hearing a muffled “come in.”

Conner cracks the door open. It’s pitch black except for Tim’s bed, where the glow of a laptop screen is lighting it up. Tim’s in a cocoon of blankets in the center of his bed.

“You okay,” Conner asks, careful to keep his voice soft.  

Tim tuts.  

“Okay, okay, I know you’re not okay, but you’re doing work, so you must not feel that crappy, right?”

Tim tuts again.

Conner bites back a retort that would have made Ma blush. Heaven help him; he hates sick Tim. Everyone hated sick Tim. A healthy Tim isn’t a cheery person, but a sick Tim was worst than Damian.  

Not that Conner would ever say that out loud.  

Like ever.

With that in mind, Conner decides on a different tactic. “What are you working on?” He floats over to sit next to Tim and read over his shoulder. Not that he could understand any of it, though. Numbers are flying by faster than Conner could read them.

“Batman asked me to take a look at a case before I went on vacation. Finally had time to look at it.”

Conner counted to ten, willing himself not to smack his sick best friend.  

“Okay, you were tortured for  **days** , man, can you stop fucking calling it a ‘vacation’ already? You didn’t spend time naked on a beach, sipping margaritas. You were beaten to a fucking pulp. There’s a big difference.” 

Tim grunt.  

Conner takes a deep breath and counts to ten again.

“Tim?” 

“Yeah?”

“ _Why_  are you looking at a case for Batman?” And Conner internal applauds himself for keeping his voice even.

For the first time since Conner entered the room, Tim looks at him and,  _shit_ , he looks like hell. Tim’s eyes are glassy with a greenish tint to his normally pale skin. The regular bags under Tim’s eyes had double in size. 

“Because I said I would?” Tim sounds completely bewildered at the question. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“ _Because_  you have a migraine and looking at computer screens is one of the worst things you could do for a migraine?”

Tim tuts. Conner fights the urge to throw something at Tim. Or to throw Tim.

“When was the last time you slept?” Tim didn’t answer. “Tim?”

“What,” Tim snaps (whines).

“When was the last time you slept,” Con asks in a controlled annoyance tone. “For a full eight hours? Like  _you_  agreed to before leaving for Gotham?”

Tim scoffs.  “Sleep is for the weak.”

Conner facepalms.   _So you haven’t slept since you left.  You fucking idiot._   

“Damnit, Tim—”

Tim curls into himself. “I had a Bat invasion, okay? Besides Babs and Dick, Bruce  _and_  Batman trying talk to me. On top of that, Jason kept trying to feed me burritos. I just need Damian to come through and try and stab me to make a complete fucking set.”

Con let out a low whistle before stopping at the wince of pain on Tim’s face. “Wait, I thought you were off carbs?”

Tim grunts.

“Good to hear.” Conner takes a deep breath before prying the laptop out of Tim’s hands. Tim hisses. “You’re sick. You need to sleep. You can have the back tomorrow.” Conner turns to leave Tim’s room. “Get some sleep.”

“I”m almost—”

“Sleep.” Conner shut the door behind him, pausing for a minute to listen to Tim’s disgruntled muttering slowly morph into even steady breaths as Tim falls asleep.  

Sighing, Conner lets his head fall against the wall.  

 _Well,_ shit _, Batman. Couldn’t you do your research yourself? Everyone (including Tim) knows you could. Instead of Tim telling Bruce to do it himself, Tim’s curled up in bed, sick, furiously trying to get everything don_ e. Con clenches his fists.  _Why the fuck couldn’t you_ —

_Buzz. Buzzzzzz. Buzz._

Conner's internal tirade is cut short by his phone vibrating. Shaking himself, Con pulls out his phone to see Clark’s text, asking if Con is still planning on going back to the farm next week.

Glowering at his phone, Conner text Clark a thumbs-up. On his way back to the main floor, Con hits the switch to turn off the alarms in Tim’s room for the next twelve hours (it’d be shocking if Tim slept the whole time, but Con knows he won’t).

Clark went from being freaked out by Con’s existence to  _mostly okay, but sometimes awkward_ terms. Con knows Tim had  _encouraged_  (badgered) Clark to engage with Conner more.  

And now, Clark is part of Conner’s daily life. And it’s nice. Con can’t imagine going back to Clark being indifferent to him.  

Like the Bats did with Tim.  

When Conner reaches the top floor, he’s nose is greeted by the smell of chocolate chip cookies baking. Looking around the floor, he sees Bart’s sitting on the couch, animatedly speaking to Dick, who has a perplex looking face on the main screen. Gar and Rae are cuddling on the loveseat next to the couch, watching the exchange with differing levels of amusement. And in the kitchen, Cassie is making the cookies.  

Slipping into the kitchen, Conner steals a cookie. “I thought you couldn’t bake,” Con whispers.

Cassie scowls at Conner, who takes a bite.  

“I can,” she hisses back.

Things have been a little… _tricky_  between the two of them since his death, resurrection, and their break up. Not that Con blames her. Not at all. He just wishes they could go back to what it was like before they started dating; when they were just friends.  

“They’ve been at it for half an hour,” Cassies mutters to Con, nodding towards Bart. “You missed the whiteboard.”

Con sniggers. “Gee, that’s a shame.”

The few times Bart pulled out a whiteboard to explain are memories burned into Conner’s mind because they tended to be convoluted. At best.  

Wincing, Con remembers Bart trying to explain to the Titans how time-travel works. It had taken four hours, three whiteboards, and Con still had no idea how any of it worked. Tim had been the only one who followed the explanation.  

Then again, Tim’s the only one who enjoyed it when Bart pulls out the whiteboards.

“So you’re telling me,” Dick’s voice booms from the speakers, “Tim has a secret girlfriend in Austin, a secret boyfriend in Pairs, and a secret partner in New York?”

“Nonononono,” Bart’s head is a blur from shaking. “His girlfriend’s name is Paris, and  _she_  livesBrooklyn, and his boyfriend’s name is Austin, and  _he_  lives in Brooklyn, and his partner’s name Austin lives in Paris,” Bart blinks. “Wait, I mixed them up.”

Dick looks like he’s ready to bang his head against the wall.

Smirking, Con murmurs, “please tell me we have it on tape.”

“Bart hit record before answering the call.”  

Con snorts (because of course, Bart did), gaining Dick’s attention.

“Hey, Con, how’s it going?” Dick pauses before stage whispering, “Bart’s messing with me, right?”

Con shrugs taking a bite of his cookie. “Has he told you about Dom yet?”

“Dom,” Bart exclaims, smacking himself on the head. “I knew I forgot someone!”

Dick facepalm. “He’s dating somebody else? Seriously?”

“I think dating is a strong term for what they’re doing,” Gar mutters, causing Raven to swat his shoulder.

Bart ignores them. “Okay, I got this now. So, Tim’s girlfriend’s name is Paris, and she lives in Brooklyn, his boyfriend’s name is Austin, and he lives in Paris, his partner’s name is Brooklyn, and they live in Austin, and Dom is Dom. I don’t actually know where Dom lives,” Bart stops, head tilts at the screen. “You look confused. Should I get the whiteboard back out again?”

“No,” Gar, Raven, Dick, Conner, and Cassie all say at once.

Bart looks around at the rest of the Titans and sniffs. “Killjoys.”

Dick pinches the bridge his nose. “And they all don’t know about each other?”

“I have no idea.” Bart darts over and steals one of Cassie’s cookies (ignoring Cassie squawk of annoyance) before returning to the couch.

“How do you not—”

“They’re  **secret** ,” Bart repeats slowly. “We’re not supposed to know about them at all.”

“Then how—”

“It’s amazing the stories Tim tells us when he’s seriously sleep-deprived or missing a shit ton of blood,” Bart deadpans.

“Yeah, I remember,” Dick sighs. “Anything else?”

“He was just in Gotham,” Con talks over Bart, who shoots Con a  _WTF_  look. “Didn’t you see him?” 

Dick finches. “Yeah. We had dinner.”

“Really? How’d that go,” Conner asks with feigns innocent.

Cassie and Bart are staring bewildered at Con while Gar gives Dick an  _are you shitting me_  look.  

Raven just glares.

Dick, for his part, flushes. “About as well as you’d think, I’m guessing.”  

A shout (sounding suspiciously like Babs) comes from off-screen, causing Dick to look off-screen. A few seconds pass, Dick, looking annoyed, shakes his head. More yelling follows.

Grimacing, Dick looks back at the Titans. “Gotta go. We’ll pick this up later, okay?” Dick ends the call before anyone can answer.

 **Bats** _._

Cassie rolls her eyes. “Was that really necessary, Con?”  

“Absolutely,” Bart grins before his face falls. “Is Tim dating someone? I haven’t heard him mention a Dom.” 

“Not that I know of.” Conner finishes his cookie before dusting off his hand. “BTWs, Red’s sick.”  

His announcement is met with a round of groans from the rest of the Titans. 

“Is that why you have his laptop,” Raven asks.

Glancing down, Conner sees, why yes, he’s still clutching Tim’s laptop. “Yeah, he was running some data for Batman.”  

Ignoring the new round of muttering (most from Bart), Conner tucks the laptop onto the shelf with Tim’s other miscellaneous electronics. They really needed to talk to Tim about the collection of half-built things cluttering the shelf.

“How’s Tim now,” Gar asks from the couch.

Con turns to face the rest of the room. “He’s asleep now. Hopefully, he’ll be able to get a few hours before anything—”

And like the universe is waiting, the Towers intruder alert goes off.  

“Happens.” Conner sourly glares at the speaker.

Bart winces. “How likely is it Tim  _doesn’t_  wake up from this?”  

Raven sighs, switching off the alarm with a flick and turning on the main feed.  

Nothing there.  

Conner squints. “What could set off the alarm like that? Meta? Shapeshifter?” 

Gar stands up, strolling over to the computer. “Woulda come up on the bio scanners.”

The alarm shrieks again.

“Magic then?”

Raven shuts it off. Cassie took the last pan of cookies out before joining the others, who are huddled around the computer.

“No, different sensor.”

Conner winces because the sensors are wailing again. “Ninja?” 

_Not today Ra’s. Just...not fucking today._

Reaching over, Gar flips the switch off. “No, no signs of them.”  

“Well then, what could it—” Cassie gets halfway through her question before the siren shrieks again.

This time, BB smashes speaker. And the switch.  

Raven cocks an eyebrow.  

“I always hated the sound of that alarm.” Gar calmly brushes off his hands. “If someone were invading us, we woulda known by now. Let’s do a floor by floor search to be safe. It’s probably a bad connection or something.”

Conner nods. They all divided up into teams. Bart and BB search the Tower with a minimal amount of protesting. 

(“ _Seriously, BB, why on Earth did you design the tower to be in a shape of a ’T’?”_

_“It was Dick’s idea.”_

_“Yeah, but you own the Tower.”_

_“…Shut up. I was young and thought it was cool.”_

_Raven pats Gar on the shoulder. “It was never cool.”_ )

 Conner and Cass are assigned the grounds while Raven searches the computer mainframe.  

After about a half-hour of searching, Conner and Cassie have circled the island three times. The most exciting thing they find is a flock of seagulls fighting over a half-eaten bag of In-N-Out fries.

Shaking her head, Cassie says, “There’s nothing out here. BB right, it’s probably a loose wire or something.” 

“Yeah, you’re probably righ—” Con stops.

“Con?” Cassie whispers.

“Shhh, I think I hear something.” Conner closes his eyes, searching for the cries. At first, there’s nothing, except for their pulses drumming in his ears. He could hear Cassie’s heart drum faster the longer he took. Con’s about to give until he hears a soft mew again.

“Conner!” Cassie’s sharp voice breaks the tranquil trance. Con blinks, finds himself floating next to a cliff, a mile above the crashing waves. “Where in Tartus are you going?”

Con blinks again, looking around. “I heard something.” Catching sight of movement on a ledge, Con floats closer were he finds—

“Cassie, come take a look.”

Cassie floats next to him and coos. “Aww, they’re adorable!”

Con has to agree with that. “Can you go get a box or something?”  

Nodding, Cassie taking off towards the Tower.  

“And a clean blanket!” Con yells after her.  

There’s a hiss from the ledge.

“Sorry,” Con whispers, “sorry.”

* * *

Babs glares at her computer screen, typing furiously. “I’m going to kill Tim.”

“I’ll help.” Helena deadpans as Dinah’s snickers come through the speakers.  

“Thank  **you** , Huntress.”

“Come on,” Dinah’s voice shakes with suppressed laughter, “it’s not that bad.”

Gritting her teeth, Babs says, “It’s not on full blast in your ears now is it, Canary?”

Days after the disastrous dinner with Tim, Babs finally tracked down the last of info she and the Birds need about the hacker. This was, suppose to be, an easy mission. In and out. Grab the baddie, send her to Black Gate, and  _go_.  

But, Babs pissed off one of the few computer hackers ( _in the world_ ) who could hack her system without her noticing.  

And boy, Tim deliver. Somehow, Tim wormed his way into her systems, and instead of putting up flags so she could fix it ( _like they_ **always** _do_ ), Tim chose to play ‘What’s New Pussycat’ on loop.  

For a week.

Honestly, Babs isn’t sure how long ‘What’s New’ been playing because Tim, in all of his Timmy glory, had started playing the song on mute. Then increased the volume incrementally until tonight, when Babs had found it.  

While trying to root it out, Babs inadvertently tripped a secondary trap.  

And here’s why Babs is going to kill Tim because that fucking trap had caused the music to go from a low mumble to blaring so loud that makes the windows rattle. Well, they would shake, but Bruce is a little obsessive about the soundproofing.

“It could be worse. The last time Ollie and Roy got into it, Lian set all the television in the house to play  _My Little Pony_  on a loop and refused to change it off until they got along.”

“Yeah, Jason told me about that,” Babs smirks. “He suggested  _Caillou,_ but Lian thought that was too mean.”

Dinah groans. “Well, at least someone has a good head on their shoulders.”

Babs hums, still tapping. ‘What’s New’ fades out. “Ha! I think I got—” ‘It’s Not Unusually Today’ roars to life, “it.” Babs gives her computer a sour look.

Dinah sniggers. “Yep. Sounds like it.”

“Have you located the target?” Babs wheels to the back of her computer, yanking out speaker cords, somehow making the music louder.  

Babs takes a deep breath.

 _Somehow, I don’t know how, but I will get you back for this Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne._   

“In position now.”

“Alright,” Babs set herself back in front of her screens, “on my mark. Ready? Three, two, one—”

The music stops.  

“Ah, much better.” A new voice floats through Babs’ earpiece. Dinah’s mirth dies while Helena’s fury pours through the empty com line. “That some impressive work. Who’d you piss off? I’d like to take them out for a drink. Or, you know,  **never**  meet them.”

Babs flips the switch to her voice modulator. “How’d you do that?”

The new voice snorts. “Please. Like I’d let anybody near me without knowing about it.”

Raising an eyebrow, Babs asks, “Auto decrypt key?”

“Didn’t need it.” Babs could hear the tapping coming from the other end of the line. “I found a backdoor. Looks like whoever decided you’d like to listen to show tunes wanted to visit you again.”

_Really, Tim?_

“Don’t worry,” the voice continues, trying to assure Babs. “You wouldn’t be able to find it without looking for it. Wait, you’re Oracle,” there a gasp from the other end of the line and a groan from Huntress, “it’s so nice to meet you! I’m a big fan.”

“ _Big fan_ ,” Huntress repeats, exasperate.

There’s a pause from the other end of the line. “If you’re going to interrupt, Huntress, then you should come out of the shadows. You too, Black Canary.”

“You’re not concerned that we came here to arrest you?” Canary’s amused voice comes through the coms.  

“If you were going to arrest me, I’d be on my way to Black Gate already.” The hacker dismissively replies.  

Black Canary’s body cam flickers on. Sitting in front of a set of computer banks (a set up that make Babs want to drool) sat a maybe nineteen-year-old girl. She glances over to where Canary and Huntress stood, giving the pair the most unimpressed look Babs had ever seen.

“Nice of you two to join us.”  

“Felicity Dean?”

Felicity turns back to her computer. “Sure.”  

“Is or isn’t your name,” Huntress snaps.

“Sure,” Felicity repeats. Babs bites her lips. “Let's go with that.”

“You know,” Dinah mutters to Felicity, “you really shouldn’t try and piss off people who can kill you, you know?”

“Nah.”

“Nah?” Dinah asks, bemused.

“She couldn’t kill me.”

“Why, exactly?” Babs is a bit concerned that Huntress might crack a tooth.

“Ethics,” Felicity says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Heroes have ethics.”

Dinah rubs the bridge of her nose. “Not all the time.”

Pausing, Felicity looks up with a mild look of interest. “I’ll take that under advisement.”

Babs pinches her lips together to prevent herself from laughing. From the files, she’d known Felicity is smart, but from poking around her computer, Babs can tell Felicity is a talented hacker.

“Oh, good.” Dinah takes a few steps forward. “What are you doing?”

“Playing FreeCell,” Babs answers. “If you move the six of the club, you can free the ace of diamonds.”

Felicity hums her thanks, doing what Babs suggested.

Babs can hear Helena facepalm. “Two vigilantes came to arrest you for hacking into people’s bank accounts—”

“Only Black Mask’s and I donated all the money I stole to his victims who couldn’t afford their surgeries— _hypothetically_.”

“—City Hall—” Helena continues, ignoring Felicity's statement.

“Have you seen the corruption running ramped through there? It’s ripe with blackmail material.”

“—And Wayne Enterprise—”

“I don’t believe for a second that’s Bruce Wayne’s real hair. Nobody’s hair is that glossy.”

“—And you’re playing a  _card game_?”

“Sure,” Felicity agreed, “what else would I be doing?”

Huntress lets out a soundless scream. Canary facepalms.  

But for Babs, a lightbulb goes off.

“Well, that depends,” the corner of Babs’ lips twitches upwards. “How do you feel about going corporate?”

* * *

_The door slams shut behind Tim._

_“What the actual fuck were you thinking, Dick?”_

_Dick winces at her glare. “That not how I wanted this to go down.”_

_“No shit, Sherlock.”_

Now, Dick’s the first one to admit the dinner went poorly. Things simply got outta hand. And Babs’ rage had only increased since she’d found Tim’s hack.

 _Dick glances up from his conversation with the Titans to a pissed off Babs coming towards him._ “ _Do you know how annoying ‘What’s New Pussycat’ is when it’s the only song you hear for a week?”_

_Dick shook his head, no trying not to look as irritated as he felt. Bart’s trying to feed him some crap about all the people Tim’s dating, and every time he glances over to Gar, the motherfucker is laughing._

_“Well, I’ll tell you: it’s pretty fucking annoying.”_

Secretly, Dick’s quite proud of Tim’s hacking skills. He knew from personal experiences how hard it is to get passed all of Babs’ security (Christmas presents were always hard to figure out for her) and the fact that Tim had not only done it but been able to— 

“Grayson,” Damian’s voice reverberates around the cave, making Dick jump. Dick closed the tracer program he’s been running.

“Hey, Little D. What’s up?” Dick turns to face an especially angry Damian.

“I demand you speak with Todd.”

Dick suppresses a sigh. Although Dami been living with the Bats for years now, he still hasn’t perfected how to  _ask_  for favors.  

Dick leans back in the Batcomputer’s chair. “Anything in particular, or would a chat about the weather suffices?”

Damian groans (the way  _only_  a fourteen-year-old who considered every adult around themselves to be woefully inadequate or you know,  **stupid** , could).  

“No, Grayson, it is these… _family lessons_ ,” Damian sneers the last two words, “Todd is insisting upon doing. I will not be able to tolerate them for much longer.”

Sighing, Dick says, “Come on, Little D, they can’t be that bad.”

“Tt. You clearly do not understand the levels of torture Todd is insisting on. Tonight, instead of patrolling with Father, as I should be doing, Todd’s insisting that I stay home and watch a  _Disney_  film.” Damian scrunches his nose. “Apparently, it has a flying rug and genie—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait, are you talking about  _Aladdin,_ ” Dick grins. “That movie’s great! Robin Williams is in it!”

Damian rolls his eyes. “Tt. Grayson, I’ve read  _Thousand and One Nights_. I know the plot making this a pointless waste of my time and talents.”

Dick gives Damian a skeptical look. “Have you ever watched  _Aladdin_  before?”

“It’s a  _children’s_  movie,” Damian says through gritted teeth.

“I’ll take that as a no.” Dick's expression soften. “It’s a classic, Little D. Give it a chance, you might like it.”  

The Batcomputer chirps behind Dick. Turning, Dick grins. The nanoscopic probes had finally come online. He’d started to worry that the might never activate. 

“What are you working on?” Damian tries to look over Dick's shoulder at the computer, but Dick recloses the program. “I’m sure you could use my assistance.”

“No,” Dick replies sharply.  

Because, seriously, the last thing Dick needs is a disappointed Damian on top of a pissed off Bruce. And Babs.

But glancing over his shoulder, Dick winces at the expression on Damian’s face.

Despite all the arguments to the contrary, Damian still an insecure kid (teenager) who just wants to help. 

So in a softer tone, Dick adds, “I mean, no thanks, Little D. It just for a case I’m working on. Go watch your movie.” Dick nudges Damian away from the computer.

Damian ignores the genital push Dick gives him, instead, darting around Dick to stare at the Batcomputer. “What’s the case? I don’t remember Father briefing me on any cases you’re working on.”

“Oh, I’m just tracking some—uh—precious cargo,” Dick mutters before clearing his throat. “Listen, if I need any help, you’ll be the first person I call, okay?”

“You know I am better at tracking than you, Grayson. I should be helping you instead of wasting—”

“There ya are.” Jason appears at Damian’s elbow.  

Damian hisses. “Todd, I am  _not—_ ”

“Yeah, ya are.” Jason sings while squinting at Dick. “Don’t worry, though, Baby Brat, Goldie here is going to be joining us.”

Dick groans. “Jay, I have a lot of work to get done.”

“Sure you do, but ya know, better than anybody else in this house the importance and value of family, doncha Big bird? Aaaaaand you know the importance of setting a  _good_  example for your young,  _impressionable_ , baby brothers, right?” Jason smirks at Dick glare.

“That’s low,” Dick growls.

“Just wait until ya see what I’ve got planned for the big man.” Dick makes a mental note to warn Bruce. “Come on, Baby Bat; we’ll get the popcorn ready while Dickie here finishes up.” Jason fixes Dick with a stare. “Ya got two minutes, Big Bird before I unplug the computer.”  

Dick gapes. “You wouldn’t.”

Jason smirks. “Wanna bet?”

“Bruce would kill you.” Dick’s eyes flick towards the computer and back to Jason.  

“Wouldn’t be the first time I died.” Jason ignores Dick’s flinch but does take Damian by the elbow. “Come on, kid, let’s go talk to the big man. And hey, if yer really good, I’ll tell ya where your katana is.”

“Wait, Todd, what did you do with my katana? Todd! Answer me!”

Cackling, Jason strides away with a protesting Damian following him.

* * *

Amber liquor swirls and ice clinks in the glass in Bruce’s hand while he stares out the window. He watches as a squirrel dashes away from a pursing Titus. As Alfred (the cat) patrols around the grounds.  

Leaning back in his overstuffed chair, Bruce stares without really seeing. His study’s chair had always been too stiff for his taste. He’d always meant to change it but hadn’t gotten around to it. Yet another thing he’s failed at.

His phone’s buzzing, but Bruce ignores it. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone at the moment.

The door bangs open behind him. Bruce doesn’t lookup. “Not now, Jason.”

Because Bruce can always tell which of his children are coming into his study without looking. Dick always knocks while he’s entering. Damian pounds on the door but will waits for a response before entering. Cass never knocks, preferring to wait until Bruce notices her standing at the door, watching him. Tim…Tim would shuffle his feet. Pacing back and forth towards his room before turning around again to stand in front of the study's door.  He'd mutter.  Debate with himself about bothering Bruce until Bruce would invite him in.

Jason, on the other hand, would burst in, regardless of what's happening. Several times Bruce had to explain to some very confused business associate why his middle son had barged into their meeting with a “what up, motherfuckers?”.

“Father, I demand you speak with Todd at once.” Damian’s voice surprises Bruce.

Swiveling around, Bruce blinks in surprise. In one hand, Jason’s holding Damian’s favorite katana high in the air while in the other hand is holding Damian an arm's length away. Damian, who’s almost as tall as Jason now, is furiously trying to escape.

 “What are you boys doing?” Bruce raises his eyebrows, trying not to laugh.

“Todd stole—” 

“Liberated.” Jason corrects.

Damian glares at him from under Jason’s hand. “ _Stole_  my katana and is refusing to return it.” 

Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose. “Jason?”

“Yeah?”

“Please give your brother back his sword.” The  _so he doesn’t stab you with it_  goes unsaid.

“No can do, boss man.” Jason straightens under Bruce’s incredulous stare. “I already told ‘em I’d give it back after we watched the movie.” 

“Jay, please—”

“Todd, if you get so much as a scratch on it, I will gut you.”

“Look, how ‘bout a compromise?” Jason gives Damian a little shove. Damian squawks but lands safely on the couch behind him. “You come and watch the movie with us. You can hang on ta it until it's over, then Dami can have it back.”

“I don’t see how—”

“It'd be nice ta spend some time together, as a family, wouldn't cha agree,  _Dad_?” Something in Bruce’s chest warms.

And then it clicks. Bruce falters. Oh, right. Damian family lesson. Jason said he wanted to show Damian some classic kid movies. Bruce remembers humming at some of the titles Jason listed off, but he'd also been working on a trick piece of tech at the time, and thus, only been half-listening.

“You did say you wanted ta see  _Aladdin_ again.” Jason smugly smiles.

Did Bruce say that?

“Of course,” Bruce grins broadly, standing up and crossing the room to retrieve Damian’ katana. “Damian, why don’t you go ask Alfred to make some popcorn? We’ll be in the media room in a minute.”

“Yes, Father.”  

Bruce pretends not to see the not at all subtle (seriously, who trained you two…oh right) low five Damian give Jason on his way out the door.

Once the door closes, Bruce wordlessly holds out his hand. Jason put the katana gentle in his hand.

“So, this is your plan to show Damian how a family works? By blackmail said family into doing what you want?”

Snorting, Jason says, “please, you knew what I was doing, B.”

Bruce doesn’t comment because, yeah, he had known what Jason had been doing. Instead, he walks back around to his desk. “I have a lot of work to do, Jay. I don’t really have time for a movie.”

“What? The movie might cut into yer brooding time?” 

Bruce doesn’t wince.

“I’m not—”

“Yeah, you are.”

Yeah, he is.

Bruce sinks down into his chair, closing his eye. “Tim’s going to be twenty-one in two months.”

“That’s generally what happens after ya hit twenty.”  

“I thought he was still eighteen.”

There’s a pause. Then Bruce hears the sounds of the chair directly across from him squeak as Jason sits down.

“Shit, B.”  

“Yeah,” Bruce agrees. 

“Aren’t you suppose to be good at math?”

The corners of Bruce’s mouth twitch.

“No, really. You’re the one who taught me math,” Jason dramatically gasps. “Wait, does this mean I can’t do math. That would explain so much.”

Bruce sighs. “I know how to do math, Jason—”

“This explains so much,” Jason sprawls backwards in his chair. “Thanks for putting my life into perspective, B.”

“You’re wel—?” Bruce’s eyebrows pinch together, but Jason wasn’t done.

“And as your reward for putting my life into perspective,” Jason hops to his feet, “you get one free ticket to get your head outta your ass and come watch a movie with us. Like a good role model, we all know you are.”

“Oh, yeah, that sounds,” Bruce stops. “You did that on purpose.”

Jason grins. “I can neither confirm nor deny.”

“When did you become so sneaky?”

Snorting, Jason replies, “‘Bout the same time I became the emotionally stable one. Because when the fuck did that happen?”

* * *

Flipping the page, The Demon Head savories the report. Golden opportunitieslike this scarcely turn up anymore.

“And you’re sure this is accurate?”

The ninja bobs their head once.  

“Excellent.” Ra’s lips curl. “Go find Prudence and bring her to me.”

The ninja bows before disappearing into the shadows.  

In the empty chamber, Ra’s relaxes in his throne, rereading the report, his finger traces the glorious lines. Somedays, the Detective makes it almost too easy. 

Ra’s lips turn downwards.

Whilst Timothy’s latest escape was expected, it did not make for an easy task of keeping his heir apparent healthy. It would be poor form if his heir drops dead from something so mundane as exhaustion or hunger. Ra’s could hardly put Timothy into the Lazarus Pits if he were to drop dead from that. The League would revolt, not wanting such a weak leader, and Ra’s could hardly blame them.

He already knew of the pathetic attempts by Richard and the others to bring Timothy ‘back into the fold’ (Richard really should learn how to use a private browser ). It’s intriguing, watching the Bats failed scrabbling attempts to reconnect with Timothy. Timothy’s icy rejection. Ra’s has watched fewer draconian play with this much drama.  

With this latest development, it will be much easier to keep an eye on the situation brewing.

A soft knock comes from the door. Straightening, Ra’s says, “enter.”  

Prudence enters, bowing.  

“Ah, Prudence, excellent. I have a task for you.”

* * *

It’s incredible what eight hours of uninterrupted sleep can do for a person. Tim shakes his head, trying to lose the last dregs of sleep from his brain.

Entering the main floor, Tim’s surprised to find the living room empty. Shrugging, because it’s too goddamn early to deal with this, Tim heads to the kitchen because,  _coffee_.  

Upon entering the kitchen, Tim sees Gar there, covered in scratches and Raven handing him bandages.  

“Did I miss a fight?” Tim’s brain quickly goes through all of  _his_  security systems that  _should_  have woken him up in case of an emergency. Although, Con has an annoying habit of turning off said alarms when he thinks Tim needs to sleep.  

“In a manner of speaking.” Rae’s lips twitch.  

“How was I suppose to know it would go badly?” Wincing, Gar puts a bandage on the deepest gash.

“How were you not?”

Deciding not to deal with whatever Gar and Raven are arguing about until after coffee, Tim ambles over to the coffee maker, pressing buttons.

As the coffee maker finished, Bart busts into the kitchen. “Hey, Tim, feeling better?”

“Uh, yeah. What—?”

Bart zips pass Tim, opening the fridge, pulling out a can. “For the Momma,” Bart calls out after he’s already left the kitchen.

Tim blinks. “I feel like I missed something important.”

Gar grins. “Don’t worry. You did.”

“Don’t worry about him.” Raven smacks Gar’s shoulder.  

He gasps in pain. “You had to hit that one?”

Raven give Gar a look. “You’re fine.”

“Uhm, guys, what’s going on?”

Before either could answer, the kitchen door’s open, Con enters, arguing with Cassie. “I’m telling you, we should just leave them alone. We could leave food out for them, but I’m worried that if we mess with them too much the queen—”

“But they’re so cute!”

“But it’s better for the kittens—”

“Kittens?” Tim asks, eyes sliding between everyone else in the room.

“Yeah. Didn’t Gar and Rae tell you? Con and I found a stray mother cat and a litter of kittens yesterday.”

Tim’s eyes slide over Gar’s scratched face. “Is that what happened to your face?”

Gar pouts. “Momma cat wasn’t a fan of me getting close to her. Even when I transformed into a cat.”

“Yes,” Raven rolls her eyes, “who would have thought a mother cat wouldn’t like tomcat hanging around her and her babies.”

Ignoring Gar’s claims that  _he wasn’t going to do anything to them, except for, you know, cuddle them_ , Tim asks, “where are they now?”

“In the second garage,” Cassie answers before glaring at Conner. “Because that way, we can take care of them.”

Conner sighs. “It better for the kittens if the mother cat—”

Tim tunes Conner out. This conversation has all the hallmarks of an argument that’s been going for a while.

Cassie turns back to Tim, eyes bright. “You want to see them?”

_“Pets are filthy things, Timothy. No, you may not keep it. Mrs. Mac, get ride of this thing at once.”_

_Six-year-old Tim clutches the kitten closer to his chest, refusing to let go of it. He’d gone down to the library and check out every book they had about cats. He knew how to take care of her. “But Mother—”_

_“Now, Timothy,” Mother turns her back on him, leaving for another gala. Or a dig. He didn’t know._

_Mrs. Mac leans close to Tim and whispers in his ear. “I’ll take her home, Tim, and you can visit her anytime.”_

“Tim?”

Tim shakes his head free of memory. “Sorry, lost in thought. I think Con’s right, Cassie. It’s better for kittens to let their mother take care of them.”

Rolling her eyes, Cassie grabs Tim by the wrist, dragging him out of the room.

“Uh, Cass, where are we—” Tim starts, but Cassie interrupts.

“To see the babies.”

“Do I get a choice—”

“No.”

Tim throws his head back. “Great.”

“Glad you agree.”

When the elevator doors ding open, Cassie shoves Tim through the door, causing Tim to squawk.  

“There’s no need to push, Cassie; I’m walking!”

“Not fast enough.” Cassie stops Tim next to Bart, who’s standing in front of a cardboard box. Peering into the box, Tim sees a scrawny diluted tortie cat glaring back him. Blinking slowly, Tim looks down to see one, two—

“Three kittens?” Tim runs a hand down his face. “What are we going to do with all of them?”

Cassie’s eyebrows pinch together. “Three? No, there’s four.” Cassie looks in the box next to Tim. “There four.” Tim looks to where Cassie’s pointing. Off to the side, there's a small ball of black fur which is crying. Sighing, Cassie nudges the furball back towards its mother, who growls and swats at Cassie’s hand.  

“That ones the runt,” Bart whispers. “The mother doesn’t seem too attached to it.”

Tim looks at the small kitten. “Their eyes aren’t opened yet.”

“Nope,” Bart agrees.  

Glancing at Bart, Tim sees the can he got from the kitchen earlier. “Why are you feeding the cat SPAM?”

“Because it’s what we have that good for cats to eat.” Bart frowns. “Con already vetoed the milk.”

“Bart, that’s not good for  **humans** to eat.”

“Oh,” Bart looks at the can before looking back at Tim. “Your point?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Tim counts to ten.  

 _This is your team. They aren’t actually trying to drive you to an early grave. Even if it feels like it._   

“You know we can’t keep them, right?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Tim,” Tim relaxes at Cassie’s words only for her to continue. “Of course, we’re keeping them, Tim.”

Conner enters the garage, holding another cup of coffee, while Tim is counting to himself. 

“Cassie.”

“Tim.” 

“They’re wild animals.”

“Not the kitten,” Bart cuts in. “So long as we get them used to humans, we could keep them. It’s not like we don’t have the space. And we could get the mother cat fixed so she wouldn’t have any more kitten we’d have to worry about. Plus, Gar said it was okay.” Bart grins.

Tim opens and closes his mouth a few times before turning to Conner. “Come on,” Tim grabs Conner’s shirt, dragging him back to the lift, “we’re going to the store.”

“Why?” Cassie calls after them.

“Because, apparently, the Titans have  _cats_ now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After pulling apart and rewriting this chapter about six times (might have been more), dealing with a bout of low self-esteem about my writing, and other real-world shenanigans, I know one thing for sure: I'm alive! Yaaaaay!!!
> 
> I've also come to the conclusion that, while I'd love to be on some sort of publishing schedule, that's just not going to happen >.<. Rest assured, I'm still working on this; I just have no idea when the next chapter is going to come out (hopefully it won't take as long as this one did).
> 
> At any rate, I'd like to thank, from the bottom of my heart, all the lovely people who commented on my writing and gave me kudos. They've really helped me out and always make me smile!
> 
> [Click here](https://reallyautomaticvoid.tumblr.com) for my tumblr and thanks for reading!


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